


Awakenings II (in which Greg Lestrade meets John Watson and they become hopelessly besotted...)

by sanguisuga



Series: Awakenings [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Affection, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Biting, Car Sex, Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, John dealing with some PTSD, Johnstrade, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex (kinda?), Romance, Voyeurism, maybe not in the most constructive manner...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 112,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of prequel to Awakenings - Greg meets John and they get to know each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is loosely based around "A Study in Pink", but it's not canon, so please don't rip on me for paraphrasing much of the dialogue and skipping around some bits.
> 
> Based on characters from BBC's Sherlock, I don't own any of them, yadda yadda.
> 
> Please comment, let me know what you think.

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade didn't think much of John Watson when they first met. He was just a little man, leaning heavily on a cane, being led around by Sherlock, almost as a dog on a leash. The consulting detective had swept in as usual, a bloody tornado in his flapping great coat, overriding all objections with a snide sneer.

"He's with me."

"Well yes, but who is he?"

Sherlock had fixed Lestrade with a beady glare. "I _said_ , he's with me." Greg blinked, wondering if he was imagining the underlying subtext that he was reading in Sherlock's voice and body language.

Then, after the flurry of deductions, the little man had expressed frank admiration in a way that seemed to startle even the great consulting detective.

' _Great,'_ Greg thought. _'He's got himself a bleeding sycophant now_.' But when John Watson turned that look on him, Lestrade was taken aback. His eyes were sparkling, his smile genuine. The face that Greg had thought plain had suddenly been transformed into something beautiful.

Sherlock glanced at him then, and Greg shook himself slightly. _'Don't you go deducing me now, you bastard.'_ As he often did, it seemed that Sherlock had almost read Greg's thoughts, and he turned away dismissively before promptly going on a rant about suitcases before trundling down the stairs and out the door, leaving his new 'colleague' and the DI standing mystified.

Greg exchanged a perplexed glance with Watson, and then John sighed and started awkwardly stumping down the stairs, one at a time. _'Poor sod.'_ Greg briefly entertained the thought of offering to help, but knew without a doubt that he would be soundly rebuffed. He turned back to the crime scene, to the lady in pink stretched prone on the floor. He put that Watson fellow out of his mind, at least for the time being. He doubted he would see him again, anyway. Nobody could stick with Sherlock for very long.

The second meeting was a bit more eventful. Thinking back to Holmes' words, Greg knew that Sherlock would have been searching for the pink lady's case, and he also knew that he would find it and keep it, at least until he had gleaned all the info out of it he could. So how to get into his flat? Ah, yes, the old tried-and-true. He went to the Yard for a warrant and then called up his team. It took the better part of an hour, but soon enough he had everything assembled, and headed out to Baker Street.

They had only been there a few minutes before he heard the front door slam and then breathless giggling. Wait, what? Greg went to the door of the sitting room, leaning out just enough to listen more closely. Sherlock bleedin' Holmes was damn well giggling!

"Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson _will_ take the room upstairs!" A high-pitched but clearly worried murmuring. Ah, the landlady. Then stampeding feet, and Lestrade had but a moment to throw himself into the nearest armchair and try to arrange his features into something nonchalant.

The façade slipped momentarily when Watson entered the room, fast on Sherlock's heels. He was carrying the cane, but oddly enough, not using it. He was also standing a bit straighter, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Interesting. Sherlock was obviously good for him. Greg was beginning to wonder if he would be as good for Sherlock. After the initial flurry of typical Sherlock ranting...

"I knew you'd find the case, Sherlock. I'm not a complete idiot." Lestrade ignored the cutting look that he received before interrupting the flow of objections. "We found Rachel. She's dead."

Sherlock's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's fantastic. There's got to be a connection..."

"She died fourteen years ago. Technically, she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter. "

"Wait, that's not right. Why would she write her daughter's name?"

"Why would she think of her daughter before she died?"

"But that was years ago! Why would she still be upset?"

A sudden shocked silence, and Sherlock glanced aside to his companion.

"Not good?"

Watson licked his lips nervously. "Bit not good, yeah."

Lestrade sucked in a quick breath. No matter how many times he had tried to upbraid Sherlock for his appalling manners, he had simply been dismissed out of hand. And now he was actually looking to this Watson fellow for social clues? Greg didn't know whether to be relieved, or jealous.

"She didn't just _think_ of her daughter, she scratched her name in the floor with her fingernails. It took effort, it would have _hurt_." He turned to John. "If you were dying - if you'd been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?"

"Please God, let me live."

"Oh, use your imagination."

"I don't have to."

Sherlock stilled then, all focus suddenly on the little man standing proud before him, steel in his spine and ice in his voice. Greg watched in awe as Watson stared Sherlock down silently. Something like pain flickered across Sherlock's face, so quickly that Greg thought he might have imagined it. Watson's posture relaxed into something resembling parade rest, feet spread slightly, shoulders squared, arms held loosely at his sides, hands curled into gentle fists.

_'Well, shit.'_ This seemingly unassuming man suddenly held great interest for a certain Detective Inspector. Sherlock broke eye contact and glanced aside at Lestrade, eyes narrowed. Greg could feel the wheels turning in Sherlock's head, but rather than looking away, he lifted his chin a little in defiance. _'Yeah, I'm interested. So what?'_

Sherlock blinked, shaking off a sudden memory, a deeply hidden pain. He locked it down, shut it away, returning control to his brain. That was all that mattered, after all. Greg watched all of this shimmer across Sherlock's stark features in a bare moment. He let his eyes drop, suddenly feeling unaccountably guilty.

"She's trying to tell us something." Sherlock's voice was low, disturbed. He started pacing, fingers steepled under his nose, trying to ignore the low level of activity and noise in the room.

Mrs. Hudson interrupted quietly. "Sherlock, your taxi's here..."

Sherlock dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "I didn't order a taxi."

Greg watched Watson watching Sherlock pace to and fro. The little doctor seemed fascinated by his new flatmate's cerebral processes. Greg was too, even after watching it for nearly five years. He had known Sherlock for a bit longer than that, of course. But he hadn't always been privileged enough to see his incredible brain at work. In the early days, Sherlock had done anything within his power to shut it up. Until Greg had given him a way to use it.

"Sherlock..." Mrs. Hudson began quietly.

Sherlock finally exploded. _"M_ _rs. Hudson!"_ She turned and fled down the stairs. "Everybody shut up! Nobody move, nobody breathe! I'm trying to think!" He considered a moment. "Anderson, turn the other way, you're putting me off."

Lestrade stood, studying Sherlock closely. "Everybody stop what you're doing. Anderson - turn your back." Anderson started whinging. Lestrade turned his steely gaze to him. _"Now."_ Anderson's mouth snapped shut and he turned away reluctantly.

" _Oh!_ Oh, yes. She was clever, very clever. She's cleverer than you lot, and she's dead." He stared around at the confused faces surrounding him. "Don't you see? Rachel!" Sherlock chuckled. "Good lord, look at you all. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be _so_ peaceful." Lestrade cleared his throat purposefully, glaring ineffectually at the prancing consulting detective. "Her mobile. She didn't lose it - she _planted_ it on him."

Sherlock directed John to read off Jennifer Wilson's email address while he booted up his laptop. "It's a smartphone, it has GPS. Rachel - it's a password... She's leading us right to him!" He sprung out of his chair and started pacing again as Watson watched the laptop screen.  
   
"Sherlock... It's here."  
   
"What?"  
   
"It says it's here, in 221B Baker Street."  
   
"That's not right, how could it be here?"  
   
"Maybe it fell out of the case?"  
   
"And I didn't notice?" The _'bitch, please'_ was unspoken, but Lestrade heard it clearly nonetheless.   
   
He snapped his fingers to get his team's attention. "Everybody, we're also looking for a phone. Anybody seen a mobile phone about?" He didn't notice that Sherlock had suddenly stilled as he strode into the kitchen, resuming the search.

John sat watching the laptop until he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock was turning around slowly, headed for the door.

"Sherlock, where are you -"

"Just - popping out for a bit. Need some air." His voice was distracted, dreamlike. John frowned as he watched Sherlock trip lightly down the stairs, and then turned back to the laptop. The GPS program was still pinging the phone's location in Baker Street. He picked up his own mobile and dialed the pink lady's number. Nothing.

He stood and turned to Lestrade. "It just keeps ringing out."

The DI sighed heavily. "All right, everybody, I think we're done here. Pack it in." He studied Watson briefly as the little man stared out the window, phone to his ear.

John spoke without turning. "He just got in a cab. Sherlock - he got in a cab and drove away." He looked back at Lestrade, disbelief clear on his face.

Greg shrugged as he watched his team trundling down the stairs. Finally, only the two men were left, staring at each other. Watson spoke first.

"Why? Why did he have to leave like that?"

"Who knows why Sherlock does anything?"

"You know him better than I do."

Greg shook his head decisively. "I've worked with Sherlock for five years. And no, I don't."

"So why do you put up with him?"

"Because we need him, God help us. And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. One day, if we're very very lucky, he may even be a _good_ one." Lestrade looked Doctor Watson over once again and decided to leave out that he believed that John himself may very well be the catalyst for such a change. He turned and walked down the stairs and out of 221B, leaving Watson standing in the middle of an empty sitting room.

He sat in his car for a few minutes, trying to marshal his thoughts regarding the case. But his mind kept returning to John Watson, to the characteristics that his mind had captured unconsciously, and now felt compelled to replay for him. The posture that had revealed his military background kept featuring in particular, of course. The golden tone to his skin, the way the lamplight had reflected the silver in his light brown hair. The way he expressed his awe in Sherlock's abilities, but didn't toady to him.

Dammit. He always found it more difficult to control his libido during times of stress. Maybe that's all this was. Once this case was done, after he'd fed himself up properly and rested, he'd be able to tuck it away again. He had a feeling that going after Sherlock's flatmate would be a rather bad idea. He sighed as he turned on the ignition in preparation to return to the Yard. His stomach growled uneasily. All right then. Fish and chips first, then the Yard.

He had been at the chippie for ten minutes or so, eagerly devouring his meal, before he realised that he'd left his mobile in his car. Probably no big deal, but still rather irresponsible of him. Greg left his meal behind briefly as he strode back out to the car, and pulled it out just as it began to ring.

"Lestrade."

"There's a message for you from a Doctor Watson, sir. Something about those suicide killings. Says it's a cabbie, and he's got Sherlock."

" _Shit_." Lestrade took a moment to mourn the remainder of his chips as he jumped behind the wheel. "I don't suppose he told you where they were going."

"As a matter of fact, he did. Guess he's got GPS."

Greg grinned wildly. "Clever lad. Okay, gimme the address and get some of mine over there ASAP. Should probably have the paramedics there too, just in case."

"On it." The dispatcher rattled off the address, and Lestrade set off the siren.

_'Please, God. Don't let me be too late.'_ Lestrade didn't exactly know why he had appointed himself as Sherlock's guardian angel, he only knew that if something happened to the infuriating mad bastard, it would destroy him as well.  
   
He was too late. Not for Sherlock, no. Greg stood in the middle of the empty classroom and stared down at the body of the cabbie-cum-killer. He looked like absolutely nobody at all, ferret-like face pinched up even in death. He surveyed the room, took note of the bullet hole in the window facing the school's other building. Greg glanced out, saw that the opposite window had been left open. So, whoever it was, they'd been there long enough to set up. If they had been after the cabbie, how had they known where he was taking Sherlock? It certainly couldn't have been some random passerby, conveniently armed to the teeth. He followed the line of sight, noted the hole in the wall. Fairly small, so not a rifle. A handgun. And at that distance - a marksman.  
   
Greg sighed. Normally, a dead serial killer would be reason to celebrate, close up the case. But this smacked of something more, something - coordinated. It was never simple where Sherlock was involved.  
   
He opened the door to Anderson's team. "Go on, then. I think I've seen what I needed to." Greg stepped outside, to the ambulance standing nearby with its doors wide open. Sherlock was perched on the bumper, an orange blanket draped over his shoulders.  
   
"Why do I have this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me."  
   
"It's for shock."  
   
"I'm not _in_ shock."  
   
Greg eyed him seriously before deciding to take the piss. "Yeah, well, some of my lads wanted to take a photo."  
   
Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed. "So, no sign of the shooter then?"  
   
"No, and we haven't much to go on."  
   
"Oh, I wouldn't say that..."  
   
Greg looked Sherlock up and down. He wasn't in shock, but he was clearly unsettled. Greg decided that a spot of deduction was just what he needed. "All right, then. Gimme."   
   
Sherlock smiled tightly and he stared off into the distance. "The bullet they're digging out of the wall is small caliber, so a handgun. That good of a shot, that distance, you're talking a marksman. But not just any marksman, it was clean through, so his hand can't have shaken at all. He's acclimatised to violence, so a fighter. But he didn't fire until I was clearly in danger, so strong moral standards as well. You're looking for ex-military..."  
   
Sherlock's voice tapered off as his wandering eyes flickered over the gathering crowd. Lestrade looked at him questioningly, and started to scan the crowd himself.  
   
"No, you know what? Forget that. Just forget what I said."  
   
"But Sherlock..."  
   
"I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket." He flapped a corner of it in Greg's face before walking toward the crowd.  
   
"Where are you going?"  
   
"I just need to discuss the - rent."  
   
Greg watched with a small smile as Sherlock came to stand in front of John Watson. There was a brief but clearly serious conversation before they turned and started to walk away. John looked back, and gave Greg a lingering once-over, top to toe and then back again. Greg flushed hotly at the tiny smirk on John's lips and went back into the building to assist his team. Then he stopped stock-still in the hallway. Wait. Ex-military. There was a very minor scuffle in his head, warring factions of 'the Met' versus 'Sherlock'.  
   
Greg shrugged it off and continued down the hallway. It seemed that Sherlock had somehow gained another guardian angel, and Lestrade could see absolutely nothing wrong with that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg confesses to John, and John takes the initiative...

It had been nearly four months since Greg had first laid eyes on John Watson. Four months of noticing the way he moved, the way he dressed, even the way he smelled. (Like strong sunlight after a rainy day, slightly musky, hopeful and clean.) Four months of seeing him, always with Sherlock, tagging along on crime scenes, taking notes, making his own observations. Usually good ones, but after a sideways glance from Sherlock, John would invariably shut down, his mouth becoming a hard thin line.

Lestrade tried to encourage him on one or two occasions, but John just looked up at him and shook his head so slightly that Greg almost thought he had imagined the motion. The last time, at the scene of a mugging gone so very wrong, Greg couldn't stop himself from moving in a little closer than was strictly appropriate, staring down into John's blue-grey eyes. John hadn't moved away, keeping his eyes locked with Greg's for a small eternity. Until Sherlock had called to him imperiously, and they both let out pent-up breath. John had grinned apologetically and turned away, following after Sherlock like an obedient puppy.

Four months of this, and he wanted him worse than ever - even with Sherlock potentially complicating the outcome. Forty-five years of life on this earth had left Lestrade with one sure bit of knowledge. If there was something or someone that you wanted, you had to try. It might not work out, and he knew that in this case, the odds were definitely against him. But if he didn't try, he would never know, and that would be the worst of all. Greg was very much like Sherlock in that manner. Knowledge was power, after all.

He shook his head and went back to his paperwork. A few mindless hours of this nonsense and he would be physically and mentally wrung out enough to forget about John Watson. At least until he woke up with his typical case of morning wood, that age-old infliction that plagued most healthy adult males. Some days he could ignore it, but he hadn't had that luxury in about a week. Since the last time he had seen John, in fact. _'Ah, dammit.'_ Greg felt his body responding to the thoughts that were coming into his mind unbidden.

He tried to make it subside, but as was sometimes the case, that just made his erection more insistent. Greg focused on the form in front of him and managed to fill out a few lines before giving in. He pushed away from his desk and glanced at the clock. Just coming up to eight p.m., so everybody sane should have left an hour ago at the latest. He stood and checked outside his office door. Yup, all clear. He closed his door, then locked it for good measure before drawing the blinds and settling back in his chair.

Greg wasted no time, simply drawing down his zip and then pulling his hard cock out of the flap of his boxers. Sometimes this was the best way. Being restricted like this gave him an extra thrill, made the act dirtier, more illicit. _'Yeah, Lestrade. Because wanking in your office isn't filthy enough.'_

He groaned and reached inside his pants to draw out his bollocks as well, giving them a firm tug with his left hand, stroking his cock with his right. Tugging, pulling and twisting gently, he let his mind fill with images of John, both imagined and real. He saw him the way he was when he had stared into Greg's eyes last week, but now he was on his knees, and it was John that had him in hand, those small but strong hands. John's slate-blue eyes looking deep into him before taking his cock into his mouth, that wonderful lush mouth. Greg groaned again, pre-come making the drag of his hand just slick enough. He tugged on his bollocks a little harder, concentrating on the head of his prick, twisting with every upstroke. He closed his eyes and saw John again, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, a trace of tears leaking from his eyes, fighting back his gag reflex as he worked Greg's cock relentlessly.

 _'Jesus, yes._ ' He felt it building, that familiar tingling pressure behind his bollocks and in his chest. Greg took in a heaving breath and came, cock twitching and warmth spurting over his hand. He moaned with his release, and in the breathless cry, he may or may not have called out John's name. He let his head fall back, taking a few moments for his breathing to even out before leaning across his desk and snagging a few tissues to aid in cleanup. He eyed the sticky wad balled up in his fist before stuffing it into his pocket. He would get rid of it at home. The less evidence left here, the better.

He sighed deeply and returned to his paperwork. Two hours later, there was a neat but small stack at his elbow. Greg sat back and rubbed at his face furiously. Sod this. Tomorrow, he was going to call him. Hell or high water.

 

                   **********          **********          **********          **********          **********          **********          **********

  
As it turned out, it was a bit of both.

Lestrade glowered down at the waterlogged body that had been pulled up on the rocky shore of the Thames. Beaten, but not badly. It looked like a simple cosh on the back of the head, another mugging gone horribly awry. But something about it niggled at Greg. It felt - personal, somehow. So he had called in Sherlock and Co.

John had smiled broadly at him, striding up to shake his hand while Sherlock made a beeline for the body. "Morning, Detective Inspector."

"Cap - uh, Doctor Watson. Morning."

John quirked an eyebrow. "I think we've known each other long enough to be done away with the formalities, don't you? Call me John." He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, attention suddenly shifted to the gory tableau on the shore.

Sherlock called to him, and John trotted to his side, pulling a pair of nitrile gloves out of his pocket as he went. Greg watched as he crouched and poked and prodded in a professionally detached manner before looking up and beckoning Greg closer.

"He was alive when he hit the water. Drowned."

Greg shuddered. "Awful way to go."

"It was pretty quick. I don't believe he regained consciousness before the water seeped into his lungs."

"Still. _Eugh_." Greg gave an exaggerated shiver, winning a quick smile from John.

Sherlock looked up from where he had been studying the ground, eyes narrowed. "Was he found here?"

"No, someone spotted him in the water and called a couple of uniforms who were nearby. They hauled him out, but didn't touch anything else once they realised he was deceased. That's when they called me." He ran his fingers through his silver hair. "At sodding five o'clock in the bloody morning," he muttered.

John looked at him, concern suddenly creasing his forehead. "Lestrade, did you get any sleep last night?"

Greg blinked at him. "Uh, yeah. A few, well, a couple hours, anyway... And it's Greg."

John smiled brightly and reached out to grasp Greg's upper arm, sliding his hand down until it rested just above the elbow. "Well, Greg. You won't be of any use to anyone if you have a physical breakdown. You need to sleep."

Greg resisted the nearly overwhelming urge to grab the lapels of John's jacket and haul him in for a kiss. He cleared his throat instead, mentally willing his voice to come out strong. "That - has been rather difficult as of late."

"Oh?" John took a small half-step closer and his hand tightened on Greg's elbow. "And why is that, I wonder?"

Greg swallowed as he looked down into John's face, so very close now. His tongue was suddenly too thick for his mouth, and he could feel the furious blush flooding his cheeks with heat. John's eyes flickered down to Greg's mouth and his tantalisingly pink tongue danced over his bottom lip invitingly. Greg started to lean into him, desperately unable to control his response.  
   
"John, I - "  
   
"It was the wife." Suddenly, Sherlock was just there beside them, feigning a cool indifference to the two men's posture, barely a hand's breadth apart. John's hand automatically dropped from Greg's elbow and he shook himself slightly.  
   
He glanced over to the cordoned line where a petite blond was pacing agitatedly, worrying her thumb between her teeth. "She looks like a brisk wind could knock her over. You're saying that she coshed a 20-stone man and then dumped him in the river?"  
   
"Follow the tide patterns upstream, and you'll find the place where she dragged him. She isn't clever enough to have covered her tracks. She tried to make it look like a mugging, but didn't discard his personal effects. You'll find those in the boot of her car, under the spare, along with the weapon that was used, probably a jack handle. Everything except the wedding ring. That was removed rather forcibly, judging by the scrapes on his knuckle, and tossed into the river as well. He'd been having an affair."  
   
Greg eyed him sceptically and then looked the woman over again. She stood barely five-foot and moved like a bird, with small jerking motions. "I still don't see how she could have done it."  
   
Sherlock's nostrils flared. "Apparently, finding out that her husband of fifteen years had been spending all of their savings on a sweet little rent boy was enough to lend her the strength!" He stared at Greg venomously. "Don't you remember? Or is that not how your situation resolved itself?"  
    
 _"Sherlock!"_ John hissed at him, voice appalled, eyes flinty.  
   
Greg drew himself up and faced Sherlock squarely. "Obviously not, as I was not found floating facedown in the river, you poncy _git_. My 'situation' as you so delicately put it, was, and is, no concern of _yours_." Lestrade raised a finger, poking at Sherlock's bony chest. "Don't you forget that you are only allowed on these crime scenes at  _my_ discretion, Sherlock Holmes. If nothing else, I at least deserve your respect. Got that?"  
   
Sherlock snorted and swept Greg's arm aside before turning and stalking away.  
   
"Sherlock!" John's voice was tight and furious and he threw a desperate look at Greg before striding after Sherlock, quickly catching up to where the taller man had halted.  
   
Greg turned away. "Donovan!" She had been interviewing the witnesses who had first seen the body, but she turned and headed his way, notepad at the ready. "Bring in the wife, search her car. Chances are you'll find his wallet and effects in the boot. If so, charge her." He glanced over to where John and Sherlock were arguing animatedly. "I'm knackered - gonna take the afternoon off. You can handle it, yeah?"  
   
She nodded absently, still scribbling. "Course." She glanced up and gestured vaguely. "They having a domestic, then?"  
   
Greg sighed. "Something like that, I suppose. Go on, and if anything comes up, phone me. I'll be around."  
   
"Gotcha." She turned and gestured to Anderson, releasing the scene to forensics. They swarmed down to the shore in their little paper suits, eager to begin measuring and collecting.  
   
Greg turned back to the scene of the 'domestic' just as Sherlock glanced in his direction, chagrin clear in his expression. He took notice of Greg watching and his face smoothed out into calm neutrality before he strode away, leaving John standing alone. His posture was ramrod straight as he stared after Sherlock, shoulders squared and hands clenched into tight fists.  
   
Greg circled him warily, making sure that John could see him clearly before he spoke. He knew better than to sneak up behind an ex-soldier, especially when said ex-soldier was clearly well and truly pissed off. "John?"  
   
John glanced at him and his posture relaxed slightly, but his mouth remained pressed together firmly. His hands unconsciously released, then clenched, released and clenched. "Greg, I'm sorry."  
   
"No, don't you dare. If you start apologising for him now, you'll never stop. It's nothing to do with you. Old history."  
   
"He had no right to - "  
   
Greg chuckled lightly. "No, he didn't. But neither you nor I will ever be able to convince him otherwise." He glanced at his watch. Barely eleven o'clock. "Bit early, but I could do with a pint. Care to join me?"  
   
John looked back at the crime scene with surprise. "Aren't you on duty?"  
   
"What's the point of being a Detective Inspector if I can't have a drink or two on the job?"  
   
John's eyes widened slightly then narrowed. "You're taking the piss."  
   
"Took the afternoon off. You're right, I could do with a rest."  
   
"Wow, a whole afternoon. Lazy sod." Greg grinned and John eyed him with delight, his shoulders dropping slightly. "You should smile like that more often."  
   
"What, with Sherlock flouncing around being snide all the time? That would take a _hell_ of a lot more cheer than I'm capable of mustering." John laughed, and his stiff posture finally relaxed completely. "How about that pint, then?"

John glanced in the direction that Sherlock had gone and then turned to face Greg directly. "Cheers. I've nothing on." Greg led the way.  
   
"There's a decent place just down the road. Used to go with the lads after footie."  
   
"Did you play in school?"  
   
"Yeah, and the academy."  
   
"Any good?"  
   
"A bit. Probably could have gone national, but - well... Life, y'know?"  
   
John grunted noncommittally as they arrived at the pub. He looked up at the sign and eyed Greg speculatively. "The Dirty Dog?"  
   
Greg grinned and held open the door for John to pass through. "Good pasties."  
    
There were a couple of patrons scattered about in the dim room, probably the regulars. They both ordered a pint of bitter and a meat pie, then settled into a companionable silence at a nearby table, waiting for the food to arrive. John's knee brushed against Greg's casually as they sipped at their drinks.  
   
"So, football, huh?"  
   
"I might even have a uniform or two stashed away somewhere." Greg patted his belly ruefully. "Probably a bit tight now."  
   
John's eyebrows rose and he looked Greg up and down. "You seem pretty fit to me, mate. Perhaps you should drag them out and try them on. I'd be more than happy to act as your fashion critic."  
    
Greg swallowed and cleared his throat. "Yes, well... Hm. How about you, any sport in your past lives?"  
   
"Yeah, rugby."  
   
He caught Greg in the middle of a draught of bitter, and he choked on it a bit. John grinned wickedly.  
   
"Low center of gravity, and I'm sturdier than I look. I can be hell to budge."  
   
"Now that, I'd really like to see."  
   
John winked. "I can arrange that." His knee pressed into Greg's again, firmer this time. Their food arrived, forcing them to break eye contact.  
   
Greg hesitated, wanting to be sure of himself. "John Watson, are you - flirting with me?" Greg took a hasty bite of pie, eyes dropping to his plate.  
   
John chuckled throatily and neatly captured Greg's knee in between both of his. "What do you think?"  
   
 _'I think that I'm about to combust, that's what I think.'_ Greg raised his head reluctantly, meeting slate-blue eyes that were absolutely burning with desire. His mouth fell open and flopped around for a bit before he was able to wrest it under control again. "I think I'm confused."  
   
John sat back, chewing thoughtfully. "About?"  
   
"You've been pretty clear with everyone that you're not involved with Sherlock, that you're not gay."  
   
"Ah. Well, strictly speaking, I'm not. I'm bi."  
   
"That's quite the technicality, Doctor Watson."  
   
"I can't help it if people don't ask the right questions. Besides, I've never been good with labels. As for Sherlock, he made it very clear very early on that he was not interested." He took another bite, chewed some more. "I think he might be asexual."  
   
"No, he has desires the same as most people. He just chooses to ignore them." Greg picked at his pie, nibbling at a piece of crust.   
   
John's eyebrows rose. "And how would you know that, Detective Inspector?"  
   
"Um. Well..." Greg sighed. "I'm not sure how much I should tell you, seeing as you're his flatmate and it's his story as much as mine."  
   
John leaned forward and stroked his fingertips lightly across the back of Greg's hand. "I'm interested in you, Greg. Tell me whatever you're comfortable with."  
   
Greg shivered unaccountably at his touch, quickly realising that he would tell this man absolutely anything he wanted to hear. "I've worked with Sherlock for five years, but I first met him eight years ago. Half-naked in the backroom of a gay club, about to be beaten black and blue."  
   
John's eyes widened. "You were where? He... _what?"_  
   
"I believe it was a half-arsed attempt at weaning himself off of whatever he was messing about with at the time."  
   
"I just - don't even, I mean...what? What was he _thinking?"_  
   
"It's Sherlock. God only knows what he was thinking. God knows what I was thinking. It was a pretty confusing night, I can tell you that much." He fiddled with his pint glass before knocking back the remainders. "It was my first time - with a man, I mean."  
   
"With _Sherlock?"_ John's face was completely astonished, his mouth hanging listlessly.  
   
"God, _no!_ He was completely strung out. You wouldn't have even recognised him."  
   
"Oh, perhaps. Truth be told, I'm having a harder time imagining you at a gay club."  
   
Greg rolled his eyes with a little smile. "A man's gotta pull somewhere... But yeah. He was grimy, even skinnier than he is now; a complete prick, of course. But there was something - I worried about him, y'know?" John tilted his head, studying Greg's face. "I had to see him before I left the club. I had come in with the man who administered the beating." Greg's face darkened. "I didn't leave with him, though. I couldn't - not after I saw..." He shivered, and John's knees briefly squeezed his again.

Greg stared into the middle distance, fingers absently twirling his empty pint glass. "It hurt, seeing him like that. I tried to, I dunno, comfort him or something. He responded - physically." He huffed out a quiet laugh. "I've never seen a man so pissed off over a stiffy before! Even though he was angry about it, he would have - well. But I couldn't. I never would have been able to forgive myself." His eyes touched John's briefly. "After that, the only times he let me touch him were when I was hauling him out of some drug pit or when I was cleaning off his sick. And he was mostly unconscious for those moments."

John winced and reached out to stroke Greg's hand again. "You're a good man."

Greg snorted. "Yeah, people keep telling me that. And yet, here I am. Just on forty-five years old, and nobody steady for the past two years. Only the occasional shag here and there. Guess I'm too bloody good for most blokes."

"Is that what you want? Something steady?"

"Yeah, I do. I miss having someone to come home to, y'know? At least you have Sherlock for that."

John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, coming home to God only knows what. Half the time I'm afraid to open the kitchen cupboards, and I'm fairly certain he's incubating something deadly in our microwave. Would you like to know what I found in the fridge just yesterday?"

Greg grinned and shook his head. "Not particularly, no."

"A head! A bloody _fucking_ severed _fucking_ head in my _fucking_ fridge!"

Greg stared at him in shock before throwing his head back and guffawing. "Oh, saints preserve. You poor sod!" He eyed John and giggled. "And the mouth on you..."

John blushed beetroot-red. "Problem?"

"Nope. It's fucking lovely."

Their eyes met again, and something sparked between them. This wasn't just lust or desire, no. There was something else there, something warm and lovely thrumming in the air between them, and they both knew it. Greg nodded toward John, his eyes dropping briefly. "What about you, then? Anyone interesting caught your eye lately?"

"Fairly recently, yeah..." John smiled warmly at the blush heating Greg's cheeks, his own eyes dropping shyly. "But prior to this, no. Sherlock has somehow managed to bungle up each and every one of my dates or potential girlfriends since I moved into that blasted flat. I am - _beyond_ frustrated."

"I can imagine." Greg glanced down at his hands. "Only girlfriends, then?"

John's eyes shifted down and then back again. "Guys are, well, we're usually easy to pull and all that, and I've always had a lot of fun with them. But I had always kinda pictured myself as getting married and all that, y'know?"

Greg nodded ruefully. "I do know."

John smiled briefly. "After Afghanistan, though... I'm not so sure that's the direction my life is heading. Who would be fool enough to marry a damaged ex-soldier who chases after dangerous criminals and a mad genius night after night?"  
   
"Only someone who really understood the situation, I suppose."

John's dark blue eyes locked onto Greg's. "Exactly."

Greg fidgeted. "What exactly is happening here, John?"

"The start of something wonderful, I should imagine. Or hope."

"But we're - well, we work together. I'm a bloody Detective Inspector. _I can't_."

"Oh! So that's why you hadn't... I was beginning to think I'd misread you."

Greg blinked. "What's that?"

"I was pretty certain that you were interested in me, but you never made a move! I wondered why, and now I know. You're too goddamned professional!" John lowered his head slightly, looked up at Greg from underneath golden lashes. "You're also a _bit_ of an idiot." Greg sputtered and John held up a hand in a placating gesture. "We don't work together officially, now, do we? I'm pretty sure you're not paying Sherlock, and I know I'm not getting any paycheques from the Met. So really - what's holding you back?"

Greg's mouth dropped open again as he processed John's words. "Dear God. I really _am_ an idiot." All of his reservations suddenly fell away as he leaned toward John, reaching for his knee under the table. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted you. Ever since I first laid eyes on you. You're gorgeous, you are. So strong, and you don't put up with Sherlock's bullshit. I admire you so much, John." He ran his hands as far up John's thighs as he could. "Last night, I had a wank in my office while thinking of you."

John flushed clear up to his hairline. "Oh. My. God. _Jesus_ , Greg." He abruptly stood, pulling his jacket off the back of the chair with a swift jerk. "You know what I think?" He moved slightly behind Greg and leant into him, pressing an obvious erection into his side. "I think we need to go wash our hands."

Greg grinned and stood so suddenly that his chair nearly tipped over. He followed John toward the back of the pub into the gents. By the time he was through the door, John was already waiting in the disabled access stall, his jacket hung on the back of the door. He smirked and shook his head, but didn't hesitate to follow him in and ensure that the door was locked securely behind them. Greg glanced around. Nice and clean, and of course there was plenty of room to move about. Not that he intended to let John get too far anyway... It was perfect.

Greg propped himself up against the door as John pulled his shirt out of his jeans and started to unbutton it slowly, silently. When the last button finally popped free, John just spread his shirt open slightly and propped himself up against the opposite wall, waiting. Greg took him in, the heady flush to his cheeks and chest making his tawny hair seem to glow under the cheap lighting. He took two steps and quickly shed his mack and suit jacket. He didn't bother to hang them up, just leaving them in a pile on the floor where they fell.

John smiled up at him as Greg slid his hands under his shirt, deftly slipping it over and off John's shoulders. Greg ran his fingers through John's sparse golden-brown chest hair, trailing down the contours of chest and stomach muscles, stopping at the waistband of John's jeans and then traveling upward again. He shivered as Greg's hands roamed over his flesh, tripping lightly over his nipples and the scar on his left shoulder. Greg leant in and kissed it reverently. John shifted uncomfortably.

"God, you are beautiful. So fit." He cleared his throat as his fingers ghosted over the scar again. "I - uh... I kinda have a thing for military men."

John smirked. "Why, Detective Inspector. Am I just a sex object to you?"

"What? No. God, no."

John chuckled low in his throat. "I still have my ID tags and a set of fatigues at home..."

Greg swallowed. "Um. Well, yeah - that would do it."

"And my dress uniform?"

Greg growled incoherently and snaked an arm around John, clasping the back of his neck firmly. John whined as Greg tipped his head back forcefully and finally, _finally_ crushed their mouths together. John opened his mouth eagerly, anticipating the invasion of Greg's tongue. When their tongues did meet, it was almost like a little electrical shock, making them both quiver. John's hands grasped at Greg's hips, bringing their crotches together firmly. John rolled his hips slowly, deliberately.

Greg shuddered and increased his grip on John's neck. He whimpered, but stopped moving immediately. Interesting. Greg tipped his head back further and, without preamble, sank his teeth into the join of neck and shoulder. John responded with a gorgeous moan and twitch of his hips. Greg smiled against John's flesh. He wanted to be taken. Greg could almost _feel_ it.

"Greg..." John's voice was little more than a breathless moan. "Last night, when you - what did you imagine? How did you see me?"

"Mm. You were on your knees. Sucking me off. You were desperate for it, my fat cock in your beautiful mouth." Greg bent down slightly, tongued and then bit down on a sweet little nipple, a hard bud under his mouth.

"Oh, _Jesus_. Greg..." John fumbled with Greg's belt and zip, lust making his fingers thick and clumsy.  He quickly gave it up as a bad job, reaching for Greg's head instead, ignoring the additional pressure that was applied to his neck. He put his mouth to Greg's ear. "Greg... I want you to fuck me."

Greg stilled and released John's neck. "Isn't that a bit much for a first date? Or whatever this is?"

"I've been imagining you, too. Just like this. Hot and dirty, up against a wall." He whipped his jeans open and then pushed them and his pants down in one swift motion. His cock bounced free, thick and heavy, straining toward his navel. He turned deliberately, and braced his hands against the wall. Greg stared at the long line he was presenting, simple masculine beauty from hands to arms to shoulders, the clean slope of his back down to his absolutely magnificent arse and well-muscled legs. Scarred, yes, but all the more beautiful for it.

"Oh, sweet _Jesus_." Greg pressed against John's back eagerly. "Dear Lord, whatever did I do to deserve this?"

"You deserve it just by being you, Greg. Condoms and lube in my jacket. Now pull down your pants and _fuck_ me."

"Wait." Greg's mouth dropped open. "You came _prepared_ for this?"

"I knew I was going to see you today, and an army doctor is always prepared. Condoms. Lube. Will you fuck me already?"

"Pushy little tart, aren't ya?"

John groaned in pure frustration and wiggled his arse against Greg's clothed cock. Greg shuddered and pulled away, desperately rooting through the pockets of John's jacket. He shucked off his own trousers and pants, leaving them pooled around his feet. He quickly rolled on a condom, hissing slightly at his own touch, as the anticipation was making him fairly sensitive. He shuffled back to John and squeezed some lube onto his fingers.

He took a moment to just rub himself against John's firm arse. John moaned and arched into him. "Spread 'em a little more. Might be a bit chilly." John complied, arching back into his hand. Greg ran his slicked fingers down the cleft of John's cheeks, unerringly finding the tight ring of muscle. He circled it gently, fingertips flickering lightly, almost tickling. John shivered and arched into him even further.  
   
Greg reached his free hand up to grasp at John's warm throat, leaning into him to press soft kisses on the back of his neck. John gasped as gooseflesh erupted over his body. Greg nipped at his neck. "You like to be dominated, don't you?"  
   
John turned his head as much as he was able to look into Greg's eyes. "Sometimes. When my lover knows what they're doing." Greg kept their eyes locked as he breached John's hole with his finger. His eyes widened as it slid in all the way, smoothly and easily. John's eyelids fluttered at the sensation and he bit his bottom lip.  
   
"John, you're - "  
   
"I had a wank last night too. A nice long one." He winked. "Only I...accessorised." His eyes fluttered again as Greg withdrew one finger, replacing it with two, gently pumping in and out. He sighed. "Jesus. Not as nice as the real thing, though."  
   
"You're still open. You're ready for me."  
   
John nodded and moaned quietly. "Yes. So will you get on with it and fuck me already?"  
   
Greg growled and pinned John flush against the wall, his wrists caught up in Greg's hands, held high above his head. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down along the cleft of John's arse. John trembled and moaned aloud, trying to push back against Greg, but he held him fast, face and belly to the cool tiles of the bathroom wall.  
   
"What was that?" Greg's voice was a deep rumble at John's ear. "Are you presuming to make demands, John Watson?" He insinuated a knee between John's thighs and bit down on his neck again, holding him there, helpless, for a full sixty seconds. "Just _who_ is in charge here?"  
   
A trembling whisper. "You are. Oh, God. You." John's entire body quaked as he whined quietly. "Please, Greg. _Please_. I want you so badly. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. Please."  
   
Greg released John's hands and ran his fingers down his arms, down his back, to his hips. "That's better." He backed away slightly, giving John the room to brace himself once again. Taking up the lube, he slicked up his cock, giving it a swift stroke. Greg found that he was glad for the condom for once, as it would certainly help him last a bit longer. He grabbed John's arse, spreading his cheeks, guiding the blunt head of his cock to John's willing hole.  
   
They both groaned as he slid himself inside, John taking all of him in one smooth stroke.

"Oh my sweet lord Jesus Christ God in Heaven. Oh, _John_. You are _divine_." He rocked into John gently, reveling in his moist heat. Greg curved his back, setting his teeth firmly into John's neck once again. John shook, fingers scrabbling against the tiled wall.

"Greg... _Fuck_ \- you're perfect. Just as I imagined. You feel so..ohhh _God_..." He set his feet firmly, pushing back against Greg's gentle motions. John stretched, baring his neck as Greg sucked deeply. "Yes - mark me." He moaned. "Make me yours."

Greg snarled as a wave of blind lust hit him. He grasped John's hips firmly, thrusting his cock deep into his heat with a sharp snap of his hips. John let out a wordless cry of pure pleasure that snaked right down Greg's spine to his groin. Lost in mindless sensation, driving himself deeper and deeper still, bollocks smacking against John's firm flesh.

"Oh, Greg... _Jesus_ , yes - I'm - I'm..." Greg slammed into him, pulled out almost all the way and then reached around to stroke John's cock as he thrust in deep again. Once, twice, a fierce thrust coupled with a long sure stroke, from root to tip. On the third stroke, Greg felt as John shivered to pieces around him, internal muscles clenching spasmodically, hot come spurting across his hand. John came almost silently, his breath caught in his throat as his body jerked wildly.

Greg gentled his thrusts as John came down again, keeping his hand circled around his cock loosely. John propped his head on his hands, chest heaving and body trembling with fierce aftershocks. "Oh. Oh, _Jesus_. Greg..."

"John..." Greg renewed his grip on John's hips, pulling away slightly. Simple, shallow thrusts now, concentrating on the head of his cock and how wonderful it felt to pass through the tight ring of muscle at John's entrance. "God, you feel so _good_."

John leant his head on one arm, reaching behind to grasp Greg's thigh, digging his fingers in deep. "Let go, Greg. I want to feel you come." He glanced over his shoulder, face deeply pink and utterly debauched. "Come for me."

Something stuttered in Greg's chest, just seeing the well-fucked look on John's face. A little bit faster, alternating long strokes between two or three short ones, and it wasn't long at all before he was right there. John moaned as Greg drove in strong and stayed there, muscles straining and cock pulsing. A wordless groan and another bite to the neck and shoulder were John's reward as Greg collapsed against him, pinning him to the wall once again.

Once he had regained breath and equilibrium, Greg sighed heavily into his neck. "Bloody _hell_. I'm not entirely sure I can trust my legs to move properly after that."

John chuckled against him. "Only one way to find out."

Greg sighed and withdrew from John, both hissing at the broken contact. He ruffled his silver hair as he watched John push away from the wall and turn to face him. They stared at each other, slightly abashed. Then Greg held out his arms and John came to him, gratefully. They held each other for a long moment, John's head on Greg's shoulder and his cheek nuzzling into his tawny hair.

"I'm getting too old for this nonsense. Next time, we're gonna do it the way God intended us to. On a lovely, soft bed."

John giggled. "Well, you do have the afternoon off... And there's so many things I want to...well."  
   
Greg smiled wickedly. "Such as?"  
   
John pulled back and looked up at him. "Well, for one thing - I can _give_ just as good as I _get_ , Detective Inspector."  
   
Greg shivered and discarded the soiled condom before fussing with his tangled clothing, getting it pulled up before ducking out of the stall and shuffling over to the sink to wipe down. "All right then. Let's get shut of this place. I suppose it's over to mine, since yours has a great sodding consulting detective skulking about..."  
   
John pulled up his pants and jeans and sighed. "Yeah."  
   
Greg heard the trepidation in John's voice and leaned in for a quick kiss. "We'll talk about it later. For right now, I just want to get you home and into my bed."  
   
John grinned easily, buttoning his shirt. "Randy bastard."  
   
"Oh, you have _no_ idea. You're in for it now, Captain Watson."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg gets John into his bed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are greatly appreciated... Thank you!

They walked through the pub with heads held high, studiously ignoring the lascivious smirk on the barmaid's face. Greg held John's arm lightly, just above the elbow, steering him through the pub and toward the door. He saw John's head jerk slightly out of the corner of his eye, and caught the tail-end of a glower that was being directed toward a dark corner of the pub.  
   
Once out of the pub, Greg couldn't help but ask. "What was that about, then?"  
   
"He was making eyes at you."  
   
"He what? He who?" Greg made as if to turn back, but John trapped his hand between arm and ribs and dug in his heels.  
   
"I've already disabused him of the notion, so I can't have you running back in there, Gregory."

"Gregory?" Greg stopped and turned John toward him. "Where'd that come from, Captain Watson?"

John set his feet and straightened his shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back. He lifted his chin slightly, cocking his head to the left. _"Just so."_ John kept his face serious, but his eyes were sparkling. Greg flushed and stammered pure nonsense. John nodded briskly. "Take me home, Gregory."

"Yes, _sir_."  
   
John smiled brightly. "Oh, I'm going to have fun with you..."  
   
In the car on the way to Greg's flat, John idly ran his fingertips along Greg's thigh while watching the city streets slide past. Greg found the motion to be distracting and somehow comforting at the same time. Stopped at a red traffic light, Greg glanced over and looked directly into John's eyes, head tilted back against the seat and staring at Greg with unabashed wonder. There was a furious flutter in his belly that had very little to do with lust and very much something to do with a finer emotion. _'Really, Greg? First shag in six months, and you're suddenly in love? Put the brakes on, chappie.'_ Admittedly, it had been more than 'just a shag'. It had been deliciously filthy and utterly erotic; a completely mind-blowing experience.

And from the look on John's face, it was just the beginning. The light turned and Greg tore his eyes away from John's. "You're gonna be the death of me, aren't you?"

John laughed quietly. "You're stronger than you think, Greg. You can handle it." His fingers dug into Greg's thigh briefly. "You can handle _me_. You certainly did a fine job earlier."

Greg snorted as he parked in front of a nondescript block of flats. John looked around at the rather industrial neighbourhood as he got out of the car. "Nice."

" _Pfft_. Wanker." John smiled as Greg took him by the elbow again and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. "C'mon. Fourth floor up. I've the penthouse suite..."

John followed Greg up four flights of stairs and then through his front door. He was reminded irredeemably of the dismal bedsit that he had occupied before moving to Baker Street. Greg let John wander through the meagre rooms on his own as he hung up his mackintosh. He joined John in the bedroom after his brief tour.

"Not much, yeah? But be it ever so humble..." John eyed him, not with pity, but definite concern. He sat at the foot of Greg's neatly made bed and patted the empty space to his right. Greg sat. "Yeah, I know. Why do you think I spend so much time at the office?"

"Because you love your job." Greg snorted. "No, you really do. It's admirable." John reached for Greg's hand, twined their fingers together. "You are - wonderful, Greg. Truly wonderful."

Greg sighed audibly. "But?" John turned a quizzical look on him. "Oh, come on. There's always a 'but'!"

"Not this time. There's something here, Greg. I can feel it. I'd like to see where it could lead."

Greg tried to ignore the wild drumming of his heart as he squeezed John's fingers. "Yeah. Me too." John smiled at him shyly.

"The only thing - " John cut off as Greg rolled his eyes. "Wait - just listen, okay? The only thing is, I've never actually 'dated' a man. It's always just been about sex. So I might get it wrong. I just - I don't want to hurt you."

Greg placed a soft kiss on John's temple. "Don't worry. If you fuck something up, you will certainly hear about it." John grinned at him crookedly. "And then we'll work through it, yeah?"

John nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"So you've never really had a relationship with a man?"

"Not a romantic one, no. A couple, well - a few - regular shag buddies in my army days, but that's it."

"A few?" Greg's voice was amused.

John looked down at their intertwined fingers. "Oh, an American or two, and an Aussie." He smirked suddenly. "You ever get a chance to get a leg over with an Aussie bloke, go for it. They are certifiable - the sex is totally no-holds-barred, absolute balls-to-the-wall... _Mm_." John's gaze went a little hazy as memory overtook him. Greg guffawed, bringing him back to the present with a little jolt. "And then the German... Or, wait - was it the Spaniard and then the German? Shite. I can't remember."

Greg laughed again. "Consequence of getting older, I'm afraid. So that's where the 'Three Continents Watson' came from."

John blushed. "Technically, it's four. There was also a Brazilian that I hooked up with while on leave in France."

Greg just gaped at him. "You've really lived, Captain Watson. My life must seem so mundane to you." Greg looked down at the floor. "Why on earth would you want to be with an old Met-hound like me?"

John clasped Greg's chin and turned his head to look into his eyes. "The RAMC took me places, Greg. I've been to _places_ and I've messed around with a few blokes. So what? It was more about existing, not necessarily living." He raised Greg's hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. "It's odd, but I feel more alive now than I ever did then." John leaned against Greg. "So..."

Greg sighed. "Sherlock."

John grimaced slightly. "Sherlock. I have a feeling that he'll be quite the cock-blocker."

Greg snorted. "Whether intentionally or not, I'm sure he will be. So to reduce the chances of it being intentional... Maybe we just shouldn't tell him."

"You don't think he'll be able to figure it out?"

"We'll just tell him that we're off to the pub or a match or something, and that you'll be home late. Or not at all." Greg grinned. "He's so awful with normal human interaction that he'll believe whatever we tell him."

"That's a bit devious, Greg." John turned his head and laid a line of small kisses along Greg's jawline. "I love it."

Greg hummed contentedly as John leaned in closer and began to nibble on his earlobe. He started to push John back onto the bed, but he resisted. Greg sat back and looked at him inquisitively.

"Patience, Gregory."

"Oh, Captain - that's _never_ been one of my strong suits. Come here."

John shook his head and stood, just out of Greg's reach. He began to unbutton his shirt as he toed off his shoes and then stripped down slowly, methodically. Greg braced himself on his hands and watched with delight as John's compact body was revealed to him bit by bit. Just the sight of that lovely, tight body was enough to make Greg's head light and his pulse race. Greg started to work the buttons loose on his own shirt, but John swiftly stepped in close and closed a gentle hand over his fingers.

Greg trembled and pressed his face to the warm contours of John's bare belly. He inhaled deeply as he wrapped his arms around John, running his hands from shoulder blades down to thighs. Greg felt John's fingers threading through his hair as he began to nose downward. John neatly broke Greg's grip and took a step back, pulling him into a standing position.

John began to unbutton Greg's shirt. "Allow me." He smiled softly up at Greg as he removed his shirt and laid it aside neatly. Then he began to work Greg's belt loose. Once again, his movements were calm and controlled. There was no hint of teasing or innuendo, he was just very...thorough. Down went the zip, and then trousers and pants were tugged down gently. John placed his hand on Greg's chest and applied a small amount of pressure. "Sit."

Greg didn't 'sit' so much as flop down bonelessly. John chuckled as he went to his knees in front of him and removed shoes and socks one by one before finally slipping Greg's trousers and pants completely off. Then he positioned himself in between Greg's spread thighs.

"John, what are you - "

"We fulfilled my fantasy earlier. Now it's your turn."

"Holy Mary Mother of _God_."

John grinned and sat back on his heels. "You're quite the blasphemer when you're turned on."

Greg blushed. "Don't tell me you're religious, Captain Watson."

"Nope. Atheist. With all the shite I've seen, I know better. I just find it - interesting. And rather sexy, for some odd reason." He ran his tongue along his lower lip suggestively.

"Oh sweet Jesus."

"Yeah, baby..."

They grinned at each other and then John ran his hands up Greg's thighs. He leaned in to lay the first of many small kisses on Greg's throat, tonguing the hollow of his neck and pressing his nose to the soft flesh, inhaling Greg's scent. John hissed slightly.  
   
"Jesus, Greg. You're _hot_."  
   
Greg blinked. "Um, thanks..."  
   
"No, literally. Your skin..." John pulled back slightly and looked up at him with concern. "You feeling all right?"  
   
"Oh, that. Yeah, I'm fine. Just run warmer than most, especially at moments like this..."  
   
"Mm." John idly drew circles on Greg's chest with his fingers. "That'll be nice come wintertime. My own personal heater, tucked into bed with me."  
   
Greg chuckled. "Not so nice during summer. Had a bloke walk out on me once for that very reason."  
   
"Damn fool." John glanced up at him from under golden lashes. "More for me, though." His fingers continued to stroke aimlessly over chest and stomach. "Silver here." John ran his hand down Greg's sternum and then followed the trail of hair to his groin. "Not so much here, though." Greg moaned quietly as John tangled his fingers in the thick thatch of dark curls, neatly avoiding Greg's half-erect cock.  
   
" _Jesus_ , John. What are you doing to me?"  
   
"Exploring." He bent his head and ran his nose lightly along Greg's inner thigh, then sighed happily. "This is my favourite bit."  
   
"Mm?"  
   
"The discovery. Drawing out the secrets of my lover's body. I love knowing just how to make someone quiver under my hands." John blew a quick sharp breath across Greg's bellybutton. He jumped. "See - you're ticklish there." John looked up at him with glee.  
   
"Or you startled me..."  
   
John looked up at him sternly, a challenge in his eyes. "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"  
   
Greg squirmed. "Explore later. I want to feel your mouth on me."  
   
"And who's being the demanding tart now?"  
   
"I told you I'm not good with the waiting bit!" John chuckled, his breath puffing out in short bursts across Greg's skin. Greg cupped John's jaw, ran his thumb across his lips. "Especially when such a lovely man drops to his knees so willingly for me." John blushed as Greg ran his hands over his neck and shoulders. His fingers paused on John's left shoulder, circling the scar. "You're not damaged."  
   
John blinked. "What?"  
   
"Earlier, in the pub. You said you were damaged." He ran his fingers through John's tawny hair and brought their foreheads together. "You're not. You're John Watson, and you are - " a light kiss on the right corner of John's lips - "absolutely - " another kiss, on the left - " _perfect_."  
   
John's breath left him in a rush as he surged upwards to crush his mouth against Greg's. His hand wrapped around Greg's cock and quickly stroked him to fullness. "Of course you'd figure out how to override my self-control, you fiend." Greg grinned and leaned back on his hands as John's head finally lowered. He shivered as John laid the flat of his tongue just to the underside of the head of Greg's cock and then slowly closed his lips around it. He hummed.  
   
"Oh sweet _Christ_..." Greg's hips jerked involuntarily, driving him deeper into John's mouth. John gagged and pulled off, wiping his eyes. "Jesus, John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."  
   
"Greg, I'm okay. You're just a bit, um - thick." His voice was raspy as he looked up and winked. "I guess that's why I can still feel you from earlier. You filled me up so nicely." Greg blushed and stammered. "Lie back."

"Oh, but - "

"Gregory. _Lie back_." John's voice brooked no argument, and Greg complied instantly, much to his own chagrin.

"But I want to see..."

John smirked. "See what, Gregory? Me swallowing your cock?"

Greg's body shuddered under John's hands. "Yes, sir." His voice was quiet, tense.

"I'll allow you a pillow. But get yourself situated quickly. Now that I've got you all laid out in front of me... _Mm_."  
   
Greg rolled his eyes as he groped blindly at the head of the bed for a pillow before folding it in half and tucking it under his head. "No way am I that delectable, John."  
   
A slight narrowing of the eyes was all the warning that Greg had before John was suddenly crouching above him, knees astride his hips and hands planted on the bed on either side of his head.  
   
Greg stared up in shock. "Fuck! You move fast for such a little..." He let the words taper off as he registered the look on John's face. Greg suddenly knew what it might feel like to be a small furry rodent facing down a street moggie. Or worse yet, a snake.  
   
There was a hint of anger in John's eyes, but the look he was leveling at Greg right now was nothing less than predatory - hungry. "Gregory." John's voice was little more than a growl. "Never. _Never_ doubt what you do to me. For months now, I've been adjusting myself in my trousers practically every time I've _seen_ you." He slid down Greg's body slightly, rutting against his belly. Greg arched and threw his head back, moaning throatily. "Fuck. _Jesus_ , Greg. You _are_ that delectable. The way you look underneath me, _Christ_ , the sounds you make."  
   
John pressed closer, running his nose along every bit of Greg's skin that he could reach. "You smell _delicious_." He trailed his tongue along and down as he slid further down Greg's body, eventually finding his way back to his knees between Greg's thighs. His tongue continued its lazy exploration, teasing Greg's bollocks and tormenting his aching cock. John moved with Greg as he squirmed and twitched and groaned under his careful ministrations. "And oh, Gregory. The taste of you... You make my mouth water." John blew a gentle breath across Greg's bits, having been thoroughly drenched in John's saliva. Greg's entire body erupted in gooseflesh. "Nothing more delectable in all the world."  
   
" _Jesus wept_." Greg whined as John carefully nipped at his bollocks. "More. John, _please_... I need _more_."  
   
"More of what, exactly?" He ran his teeth along Greg's length, pressing a firm but gentle bite at the root of his cock.  
   
" _That_. Oh, sweet _fucking_ Christ..."  
   
John made an appreciative sound low in his throat before turning his head and setting his teeth into Greg's thigh. Greg's hips bucked as John wrapped his hand around his cock and began to stroke. He kept his grip loose and touch light as he stood and bent over Greg's body, picking seemingly random spots to sink his teeth into. Greg's body quivered and he moaned with every mark that John left behind.  
   
John found a particularly sensitive spot on Greg's right side that made him jump, groan and giggle sharply all at the same moment. The resulting noise was something akin to a yappy dog being strangled. John glanced up at Greg's face and had to chuckle at his wide-eyed look.  
   
Greg cleared his throat self-consciously. "That noise did _not_ come from me."  
   
John squeezed Greg's cock and grinned as he thrust up against him, head thrown back. "Oh, really?" He went for the spot once more, applying just a bit more force than the first time. Again came the high-pitched but oddly growly yelp.  
   
"I knew it. You are going to _kill_ me. I will die of embarrassment at any moment."  
   
John laughed, running the fingers of his free hand along Greg's side. "Relax, Gregory. Any and all sex noises will be kept strictly between us. No need to be embarrassed over the lovely sounds that I wring out of your spectacular body." He demonstrated by giving Greg's cock a firm stroke, twisting at the head. Greg moaned loudly and John sighed. " _Beautiful_." He bent down to nuzzle at Greg's belly, but was neatly intercepted as Greg pushed himself up on his elbows and captured John's mouth with his.

Greg's lips quivered with desperation as he moved against John eagerly. "John..." He trailed his fingertips along and down John's arm, coming to rest lightly on the hand currently wrapped around his cock. " _John._ Please." Greg ran his nose along John's jawline, breath trembling in his ear. "Take me apart. _Please._ " 

Something soft and vulnerable flickered across John's face before he buried his nose in Greg's neck. He breathed deep. "Oh, _Greg_... Anything.  _Anything_ for you." Greg felt that furious flutter in his belly again as John dropped to his knees and closed his lips around the head of Greg's cock. He kept a steady pressure on the root, squeezing rhythmically as he bobbed up and down, sucking greedily. 

As desperately as Greg wanted to watch, he could only throw his head back and groan loudly as John worked him relentlessly. " _God_ , John. You're so - _unh_." Greg gave himself over to pure sensation as John tugged gently on his bollocks, reaching behind and rubbing firm circles with his thumb. "Oh, Jesus -  _yes._  There. Right _there."_ Greg gasped and clutched mindlessly at John's head as the pressure began to build. "John - I'm..." John acknowledged with a wordless grunt and released his grasp on the root of Greg's cock, swallowing him down completely. At the feeling of John's nose hitting his pubic bone and John's throat closing around the head of his cock, Greg's body went completely rigid and he came with a loud cry.   
   
Greg's vision actually blacked out for a moment, and as he was completely incapable of movement, he just lay there, chest heaving. He was dimly aware of movement between his legs as John stood once more, rearranging Greg's limbs, pushing his legs together and clambering on to his thighs. John put his knees on the bed but then settled back, hooking his ankles under Greg's knees to anchor himself. Greg began to come back to awareness to find John watching him intently, stroking his own cock lightly.

Greg smiled and waved a hand weakly. "Just give me a mo, and then I'll..."

John smirked. "No, you won't. I'm afraid I've completely worn you out."

"Yeah. Well done, you. Sucked me _completely_ dry." He giggled and then blew out a heavy breath. " _Fuck_. John, you're..."

The smirk widened. "Yeah, I am."

Greg rolled his eyes, but couldn't prevent a grin from breaking through. "Cocky bastard." He reached out for the only bit of John that he could, caressing his thighs lightly. "Now what?"

"Now?" John quirked an eyebrow. "Now I'm gonna fuck my fist and come _all over_ you."

"Dear _sweet_ God in Heaven." John threw back his head and moaned, body arching. "Jesus, you're _gorgeous_..." Greg watched, rapt, as John thrust into his tight fist. "Um - if you want - I have lube..."

John gasped. "Not necessary. I tend to leak when I'm really turned on. And - oh, Jesus _fuck_ \- you turn me _on_ , Greg." He clenched his teeth and raised himself up on his knees to get a little more leverage, snapping his hips viciously.

"Oh, _Christ._ Yes, John. C'mon, come for me. Come _on_ me. I want it. Holy _fuck_." Greg gripped John's thighs tightly as his eyes twisted shut and he thrust once, twice more and then released, spurting hot come over Greg's belly. " _Jesus_. You're beautiful when you come. Fucking _gorgeous_."

John laughed shakily, leaning forward slightly and bracing his arms on the bed. "Flatterer."

Greg ran his fingers through John's cooling mess and then slipped those fingers into his mouth. John's eyes widened slightly and a flush tinged his cheeks. "Not at all. 'S truth."

John reached out tentatively and spread his come over Greg's belly, rubbing it in slightly. "I've marked you... You're mine now." He glanced at Greg, almost shyly.

Greg smiled. "Too right I am." He watched as John levered himself off of his thighs and then wandered into the bathroom on wobbly legs. Greg heard water running, and then John came back with a wet, warm flannel. He studiously wiped Greg down and then pulled him up and off the bed before turning down the bedclothes.

"In you get." Greg quirked an eyebrow in a silent question. "First, you're going to catch up on some of that sleep you missed last night. And then I'm going to feed you." John went up on his toes and kissed Greg gently. "You need looking after. That's my job now."

Greg got back into bed and pulled John in after him. Curling himself around John's back, he put his nose to the top of his head and inhaled deeply. John moved against him languidly, and yet again, there was that heated flutter.

' _Fuck_ ', thought Greg. _'I am done. I am so fucking done for_.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John ponders, and Greg wheedles...

John Watson was sitting up in Greg Lestrade's bed, stark naked but keeping his modesty relatively intact with a sheet bunched up over his waist, reading the newspaper. Well, pretending to, anyway. In actuality, he found himself contemplating this new wrinkle in his life. He and Greg had fallen into somewhat of a routine surprisingly easily. Tuesday and Fridays were 'pub nights', or at least that's what John told Sherlock. Provided there wasn't a case on, Greg would take John out to dinner or to the cinema, but they invariably would end up back at Greg's, shagging each other silly.

On Tuesdays, John would slip out of Greg's bed and head back to Baker Street, but on Fridays, he'd usually stay over, giving Sherlock the excuse that he had just been too pissed to get home. Those were the nights he liked the best, not just for the incredible sex, but sleeping curled up naked against Greg's body, feeling his heartbeat through his almost-overly-warm-but-somehow-just-right skin. This was not something that he had ever expected, that a relationship with a man would be so easy, so - _right_. It was the oddest push and pull of wanting to protect, the urge to stand between Greg and the world, to fight his battles for him, and yet - wanting nothing more than to shelter in Greg's arms and let the rest of the world go hang.

He was lost, he knew it. He was fairly certain that Greg felt the same way, could almost see it in his eyes from time to time. But they held back, both seemingly waiting for - something. Or perhaps someone?

Their secret had almost been discovered about a week ago. Sherlock had been harassing Greg about an older case, and had dragged John along on an impromptu visit to NSY. John had watched with increasing amusement as Greg dug about on his incredibly messy desk, looking positively harried and cursing under his breath in a rather adorable manner. He hadn't even been aware of the goofy smile on his face until Sherlock, who had been pacing agitatedly, stopped in front of his chair and brought his face close to John's, studying him intensely.

"You're seeing someone new."

John had snapped out of his reverie abruptly, throwing a quick glance at Greg, who had stilled completely, eyes wide, looking a bit like a startled rabbit. "Not entirely new."

"Hm." Sherlock stood, flickered a look at Greg. "Who?"

"None of your business, Sherlock. It hasn't interfered with your work. Anytime you've needed me, I've been there. So really, it doesn't concern you, now, does it?"

"Interesting."

John sighed. "What is?"

"You hadn't put up much of a fight when I took steps to ensure your loyalty before. You must be smitten."

John stood with a sharp snap. "My what? I am not your pet bulldog, Sherlock. I run around with you because it's fun and exciting and like it or not, I am your best mate and I want to make sure you don't get yourself killed. But you aren't the only person in my life." John stared him down coolly. "It's well past time that you accepted that."

Sherlock's eyes had narrowed. "Oh yes - _quite_ smitten."

John's face flushed as he threw another glance at Greg and was ridiculously pleased to see an answering blush on his face. Sherlock looked between the two of them in bewilderment before turning on his heel and stalking out of Greg's office. John felt Greg's warmth at his back and he leaned backward slightly, needing to feel his solid presence.

"Smitten, huh?"

John huffed out a silent laugh. "Shut it, you."

"Thank God he's rubbish with emotions. We laid it all out rather nicely for him, I think."

"He'll be deducing us any moment now. Just you wait."

But he hadn't. In fact, Sherlock hadn't mentioned it at all, except for a quick monologue over tea the next morning.

"John. I would like you to know that you are correct. It is foolish of me to expect to be your only - friend - especially when you have certain needs that I am not equipped to provide. Not that you would - but yes - it is none of my business, since you have indeed been at my side every time I have called upon you. I will make no attempt to discover who your recent conquest may be, on the hopes that perhaps you will be comfortable enough to introduce us in the near future. Despite evidence to the contrary, John, I am -happy - for you. Besides, regular servicing seems to have made you considerably less grumpy, and that is something I can only benefit from."

John had choked a bit on his tea, but only said, "Thank you, Sherlock", and left it at that. He had fired off a quick text to Greg, stating only, _'We're safe. For now.'_

Greg had come back with _'Dun dun dunnn...'_ John smiled foolishly, easily picturing Greg's mischievous grin and the mock horror in his dark eyes. Sherlock stared at him curiously over the lip of his own mug, eyeing John's mobile with interest. Right. So he was never going to leave his phone unattended, that was for sure.

And that, seemingly, was that. Provided, of course, that Greg and John could keep their hands to themselves while in Sherlock's presence.

"Oh, _yes_!"

John was snapped back to the present as Greg turned to face him, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He shut his laptop and let it slip onto the floor.

"We're going out tonight."

John quirked an eyebrow in a rather good impression of his infuriating flatmate. "Are we, now?" Greg nodded emphatically. "Just what kind of trouble are you planning on getting us into?"

"My old haunt. They're doing a retro night!"

John just stared, unbelieving. "Old haunt - you mean that club? You want to take me...clubbing? _Me_."

Greg grinned and couldn't stop a little giggle from escaping. "Can't wait to see you shake it on the dance floor!"

"You have gone completely mental. I don't _dance_."

"Oh really? So when you're in the kitchen making tea with the radio on and you're sliding and shimmying and shaking that amazingly fine arse all over - what do you call that, then?"

"Erm..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You didn't give me enough time to answer! Morning exercises, that's what that is."

"Bullshit. Your exercises involve a lot more straining and...grunting, and unbearably sexy muscles, and - _mm_."

John grinned and shook out his paper, convinced by the dreamy look on his lover's face that the matter had been settled. Until the paper was torn out of his grip.

"No distractions, you sly little bastard. We are going _out_. Tonight."  
   
In the three months that they had been seeing each other, John had found it remarkably difficult to refuse Greg anything that he asked. It's not like he was high maintenance anyway - most of his requests were along the lines of vigorous back scratches and the occasional cup of tea. He asked for very little, and had even put up with John running out on him on numerous occasions to heed to Sherlock's call. But clubbing was one thing that John just did _not_ do.

"Greg..."

"Johnnn..." Greg slid down in the bed until he was lying flat and then twisted his body until his head was nestled in John's lap. He fluttered his eyelashes up at his paramour. "I _really_ want to go out tonight. And since Sherlock is still off in Switzerland on whatever nonsense  Mycroft put him up to, I have you for the whole weekend. Let's party!"

John sighed, and then grinned as the full force of puppy-dog eyes hit him. He ran his fingers through Greg's fine silver hair as he nodded briskly. "Okay. We'll go. But you aren't getting me on that dance floor." Greg's brilliant smile flashed up at him as he winked conspiratorially. John sighed again. "Retro, you said?"

"Uh-huh. Mostly mid-to-late seventies, early eighties."

John pulled a face. "What, like disco?"

"Gah! For _fuck's_ sake, John.No! Is that the kind of man you take me for? If so, then I'm afraid we're going to have to call it quits."   
   
John tweaked Greg's nose and smiled down at him. "And give up some of the best sex of my life? I should bloody well think not. So what are we going to be subjected to?"  
   
"Some poppy stuff, but quite a bit of punk and New Wave. The good shit."

"Punk?" Greg nodded gleefully and turned his nose into John's belly, inhaling deeply. "You like punk?"

Greg laughed against John's flesh. "At one point in my life, I _was_ punk." He circled his tongue around John's bellybutton.

John hummed appreciatively and chuckled. "What, like, stick-it-to-the-man kind of punk?"

"Oh yeah. A real bad arse. Hanging out on street corners till all hours." He shook his head slightly, laughing at himself.

"Greg - you do realise that you are 'the man' now, right?"

"Life's a funny old thing, in't it?" 

John hummed again, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall as Greg's tongue worked lazy circles against his skin. "How old were you?"

Greg replaced tongue with fingertips, tracing over the wet trails he had left behind. "Old enough to know better, young enough not to care. Sixteen, seventeen, thereabouts."

"You didn't do anything - destructive, did you?"

Greg chuckled again. "My lads were anything but destructive. For us, it was mostly about the scene, the music. Most we ever did was knock over a few rubbish bins. Told ya - real bad arses."

John laughed as Greg shifted suddenly, raising himself up on his knees before throwing back the bedclothes and straddling John's thighs. He buried his nose in John's neck and ran his fingers along his ribs. John wrapped his arms around Greg and trailed one hand down his back, cupping his arse briefly before tracing along the muscle of his thigh. Jesus, these thighs... Greg moaned lightly, nibbling along John's collarbone and then moving down along his sternum.

"Greg, what are you doing?"

"Mm. Showing my appreciation." He flicked his tongue over a nipple before biting down delicately.

" _Ah_!" John squirmed. "For?"

"For agreeing to go out tonight. And something about 'best sex of your life'..."

John blinked. "Oh. How is it that you remember all those offhand comments anyway?"

Greg scoffed. "I _am_ a detective, John... I don't flounce it about like the Great Consulting Prat, but it is my job to observe and to remember. And I like to think that I'm not half-bad at it, at that."

"Right. Sorry. I do forget sometimes, mostly because you aren't constantly reminding me, unlike some." John gasped as Greg's fingers stroked against his hardening cock. "Still, you don't have to. This morning was fantastic."

Greg glanced up at him and winked before shifting downward. "What, earlier? That was just to take the edge off. Besides, it was over in a flash. I want to show my appreciation _properly_ this time." John let out a startled yelp as Greg grasped his hips and roughly yanked him down so he was lying flat. He didn't hesitate at all, simply bending down and taking John's half-hard cock into his mouth.  
   
John's back arched involuntarily and he groaned. " _Jesus_ , Greg."  
   
" _Mmph_." He licked and suckled at John's willing flesh until he was fully erect and then wrapped a hand around the root, coming up off the head. He stroked slowly. "God, I _love_ it when you get hard in my mouth."  
   
John laughed. "Yeah, it's a bit of a power trip, isn't it?"  
   
He gasped as Greg sucked on his bollocks, humming around one and then the other. Greg took his time, lavishing attention on the softly-furred mounds, mouthing and nipping at them delicately. John writhed, moaning at each touch of Greg's tongue. Greg smiled to himself - John was ridiculously sensitive, and God, did he love to see him squirm. He nosed a little further down, swiping the flat of his tongue along John's perineum, coming perilously close to somewhat forbidden territory.  
   
"Greg..." John's voice was nearly breathless, but Greg could clearly hear the warning. He debated internally, but not for long. He licked again. John sat up abruptly, taking Greg's chin in his hand. " _Gregory_."  
   
"Yes, Captain Watson." Greg tried his best to look contrite. "I know." John stared him down, eyes flinty. Greg stuck out his tongue, swirled it around the head of John's cock. "May I continue?"  
   
John groaned and released him. "As long as you _behave_ yourself." He fell back against the mattress, shuddering as Greg took him back into his mouth. Greg gently tugged on John's bollocks as he sucked, wishing - not for the first time - that adequate protection existed that didn't taste like - well - rubber. One day, one glorious day, he would be able to tongue-fuck John Watson's magnificent arse, without any pesky barriers in the way. That day, the angels would come down and sing fucking hosannas.   
   
Until that day, though, he had to content himself with the not-inconsiderable pleasures that he was allowed. He sucked slowly, deeply, fluttering his tongue along John's shaft as he moved. As usual, John became impatient with Greg's tortuously slow pace, his hips starting to jerk in short sharp movements, driving his cock into Greg's hot mouth. Greg let him, breathing in evenly through his nose, hollowing his cheeks and sucking deeply every time John pulled out.

It wasn't long before John's breath quickened and he was moaning with every push. Greg slipped his thumb behind John's bollocks, stroking along his perineum firmly, rubbing in small circles.

"Greg..." A bare whisper as John gasped and his back arched. Greg felt him harden even further against his tongue and then his mouth was flooded with John's come, bitter and salty-sweet. He swallowed it all and licked him clean, grinning wickedly as every swipe of his tongue made John quiver and groan.

Finally, John had to physically push Greg's head away from his prize. " _Stop_ , damn you." He panted. "Too much."

Greg sat up and frowned slightly. "But it's so tasty."

John's eyes travelled over Greg's body, lighting up with delight. "And so are you." He pulled himself up a bit, settling back against his pillow, elevating his head at just the right angle. "Get up here."

Greg grinned and climbed over John on his hands and knees, straddling his chest. John grabbed Greg's arse with both hands and licked his lips before simply swallowing him down. Greg's hands slammed into the wall above John's head and he groaned lustily.

"Oh, holy _Christ_..." He looked down, caught John's steely blue-grey eyes staring up at him, his pink lips wrapped around Greg's thick cock. "Ah, Jesus. _John_..." Greg thrust into John's mouth slowly, gently, watching in awe as he slid in and out of that perfect wet heat. He ran his fingers through his tawny hair, moaning as John's eyes fluttered in ecstasy.

"Good God. I could come from the sight of you alone..." John hummed and clutched at Greg's arse a little harder, encouraging him to move. Greg took him up on his offer, wanting to make it last, but unable to resist John's pull. He placed his palms flat on the wall and began fucking John's mouth in earnest, keeping his eyes on him the whole time.

In no time at all, he felt that familiar tingling, his bollocks drawing up tight. "Ah, _fucking_ Christ... John!" John's eyes widened slightly and he moaned low in his chest as Greg's body stiffened and he came, shooting most of his load straight down John's throat.

John let him slip from his mouth, but kept Greg where he was with a very firm grip on his behind. He began to subject Greg to his own treatment, licking long stripes over and along his spent cock. Greg giggled and then writhed, trying to push away. John held him locked in place, the muscles in his arms and neck tense.

"Okay, okay! You win." Greg giggled some more, utterly breathless. "Let me go, you _wanker_!"

John smiled and relaxed his grip, allowing Greg to fall back on the bed at John's side. He threw his arm around John's waist and tugged, until John slid down and snuggled up close. Greg sat up abruptly and untangled the sheet from the bottom of the bed, pulling it up and over their heads. They giggled together before falling asleep in a post-coital daze, cocooned in a white fluffy cloud of their own making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Greg prepare for a night out...

They awoke in late afternoon, Greg stretching against John languidly before fairly leaping out of bed. John groaned and pulled the sheet tighter over his head, curling into a small ball. He heard Greg chuckling at him as he left the bedroom, and then there was a great commotion of slamming cupboards in the kitchen. John groaned again and poked his head out of his burrow, knowing that there was no additional rest to be had.  
   
There was a thump and a muffled curse from the kitchen, so he pulled on some pants and shuffled out, squinting against the harsh lighting. Greg was hopping on one foot, grasping the other in his hand.   
   
"Stubbed my toe. Motherfucking _Christ_!"

John blinked at him owlishly before turning and flipping on the kettle. "You're like Tigger, you know that?" Greg stopped hopping. "Especially after sex. You get all this energy from God only knows where, and start _bouncing_ all over the place." John scowled. "It's rather tiresome."  
   
Greg stared, and then burst out laughing. "And before you've had your tea, you're a bit like Eeyore." He reached out to ruffle John's already considerably ruffled hair. "And after - you're Piglet. Tiny and sweet."   
   
John bared his teeth in a weak growl, but relented as Greg pulled him in to his embrace. He sighed into his chest and smiled. "And Sherlock?"  
   
"Rabbit, obviously."  
   
"Not Owl?"  
   
"Nah. Both Rabbit and Owl are pompous gits, but Rabbit gets flustered. Owl is unflappable. Mycroft's Owl."  
   
"Ah, of course." John hummed as Greg rocked him quietly, wondering if it were possible to just fall asleep on his feet. Then the kettle clicked off and Greg let him go. "What was all that racket about, anyway?"  
   
"I was gonna cook. But apparently, I've nothing in." John snorted. "So... Chinese, then?"  
   
John groaned. "Oh God, yes. I'm famished."   
   
Greg phoned in their order while John made the tea. While waiting for the food to arrive, they squabbled good-naturedly over which programme to watch on the telly. In the end, John's Bond DVD won out over Greg's Doctor Who, primarily because Greg insisted on watching the Ninth Doctor instead of the Tenth.  
   
"Ten is much better-looking than Nine, and besides, he only had the one series. You've watched that disc so much it's practically worn thin!"  
   
"It's not about the bloke, John, it's about the character. Nine is so much darker - there's all that guilt and anger and just plain angst. He's the last of his kind, and he's one step away from just chucking it all in and doing some serious damage. I just love watching that struggle, that's all."  
   
"Nah. I think it's Eccleston that does it for you. After seeing him play that Major in that zombie flick, you got all twitterpated. You and your military men."  
   
"Jealous?" Greg blushed as John scowled at him playfully. "Why would I need a fictional Major when I've got a real-life Captain practically sitting in my lap? Besides, that character was a colossal prick."  
   
There was a knock at the door and Greg went to fetch the food. John seized his opportunity and slid Casino Royale into the player. He also made sure to gather all of the various remotes and tuck them down into the cushions on his side of the couch, securing his control. Greg rolled his eyes at him as he spread their repast out on the small coffee table.

"Go on, then. Bond it is. And I promise you that I won't steal the remotes, so you can stop squirrelling them away in the sofa." Greg gave John the stink-eye. "Last time you did that, I couldn't find them for a week."

John laughed and started the disc, sitting back with noodles and egg rolls. They settled into a companionable silence, eyes fixed on the small telly as they ate.

John sighed lustily. "The suits. My God."

Greg shrugged. "Sherlock does it better."

John glanced at him, eyebrow quirked. He didn't detect any teasing in Greg's tone, just straightforward honesty. "Yeah. Yeah, he does." John's gaze dropped to Greg's hand, loosely draped over John's thigh. "Can you imagine him in a tux?" The quick twitch of Greg's fingers, digging into John's flesh, told him that he could.

Greg gave voice to a quiet moan. "Good lord." His hand shifted upward and he gave John a heated sideways glance. "Are you trying to get me worked up, John?"

"Pshaw. Like it takes any effort for that." John smiled as Greg pulled him in closer, attention focused on the screen. He cleared his throat slightly. "About Sherlock. These assignments that Mycroft's been sending him on..."

Greg frowned and turned his attention to John. "Yeah? You think there's something off about them? I did notice that they seem to be happening more frequently."

"Did you also notice that they started around the time we started seeing each other?"

Greg's eyes widened. "Well, shit. He knows, doesn't he?"

"The evidence certainly seems to support that conclusion, yes."

Greg eyed John balefully. "Don't even try that shit. It doesn't look half as good on you as it does on Sherlock."

John let out a sharp bark of laughter. "He certainly seems to know that I'm seeing someone. He may not know who."

"The man has the whole of the CCTV system in his pocket. Of course he knows. Shit."

John intertwined his fingers with Greg's. "Well, if he does, then he obviously approves. He's making sure that we get time away from his insanely clingy brother, after all."

Greg sighed heavily. "Well. Knowing Mycroft, he's got some kind of scheme in mind."

"Probably, yeah. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't take advantage."

Greg grinned and squeezed him. "Oh, of course we should."

The film ended and Greg stood with a groan. "We should start getting ready. I'll go ahead and shower first..." He gathered the empty takeaway containers and tipped them into the rubbish bin on his way to the toilet.

John sighed. Taking a leisurely shower after an epic fuck session was one of his favourite things to do with his lovers, but he had yet to have that pleasure with Greg. His impossibly tiny bathroom could barely accommodate one person in there at a time, never mind the actual shower stall. Perhaps on the next of Mycroft's mysterious missions, he'd bring Greg home with him, to 221B's rather spacious bathroom. Hell, even the tub could easily accommodate two bodies, especially if one of them was only five-foot-seven...

John turned off the telly and cleared up the rest of the detritus from dinner before heading into the bedroom to wait out his turn in the shower. Greg came out with dripping hair and a damp towel slung precariously around his hips.

John smiled broadly. "Damn, you're tasty."

Greg smirked and whipped the towel off before running it over his hair. "I'm glad you appreciate my old broken-down carcass. Not many out there that do."  
   
John 'tsk'ed. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Greg. I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you tonight. They'll be swarming all over you."  
   
Greg laughed. "Flatterer."  
   
John smiled. "Damn straight. I need you happy if I want to keep shagging you on a regular basis..."  
   
"Pig."  
   
John shrugged easily and slipped past Greg, giving his bare arse a sharp slap on the way. Greg yelped and scooted clear.

John came out of the shower into the bedroom to find Greg primping in front of the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. He had put some kind of heavy-duty gel in his hair, and was working it into stiff silver spikes. John just stood there in his towel for a long moment, taking it all in. Tight black jeans, an-honest-to-God-Union-fucking-Jack on a tattered sleeveless t-shirt, biker boots, a couple of thin studded belts wrapped around his waist and holy fuck, was that eyeliner?

John sidled up a bit closer, as silent as only he could be. Greg was still fussing with his hair, and didn't even notice until John's arms wrapped around him from behind, his tawny head popping up over his shoulder. "Where's the spiky collar?," he teased.

"Alas, that's one item that just doesn't fit anymore."

"We'll just have to get you a new one, then..." Greg arched an eyebrow at John's reflection. John smiled back, all innocence. "You look good, sweetheart. Really, really good." He squeezed Greg's waist before turning back to get dressed. "Try not to hurt anyone with that hair, though."

Greg turned and lunged after John, whipping away his towel and grabbing two handfuls of muscular arse before simply sweeping him up and tossing him onto the bed. John squealed as he landed, causing both of them to stop and stare at each other, totally startled. Then Greg grinned that brilliant grin, and climbed on top of a laughing John. He latched on to his neck easily, sucking a deep mark into John's flesh.

John squirmed. "Greg, what are you doing?"

"Making sure they all know you're taken."

"I had no idea you were such a caveman." John gasped and squirmed some more as Greg mouthed a bit further up his neck. "I could always use my words, you know. Tell them to bugger off and all." He bit back a moan as Greg's teeth found and nibbled at his earlobe.

"Can't take that chance. They must know, at first glance, that as gorgeous and delicious as you are, they aren't allowed. They get no more but that first look."

John giggled as Greg's tongue traced the outer shell of his ear. "Possessive git."

" _Mm_. Must be the boots. Making me all aggressive n'shit."

John moaned as Greg buried his nose in the hollow of his throat. "Can't say I mind _too_ much..." His body arched involuntarily as Greg's nimble fingers found *that* spot, the weird one under his left armpit that was almost like an 'on' switch for his cock. "Oh, Jesus. Every _bloody_ fucking time. Greg, I just got clean, and you're gonna go and get me all messy again."

Greg smiled wickedly and caressed the spot again. "Not if I lick you all up afterward..."

"Don't you want to save that energy for the club? Where does it all come from, anyway?"

Greg chuckled. "Not my fault you make me feel twenty years younger." John smiled broadly. Greg sighed. "But you do have a point. Won't have as much fun dancing if I'm all shagged out." He winked down at John. "And it's not like I don't get to drag you back to my cave later."

John laughed brightly as Greg rolled off of him and headed back to the wardrobe. He fished around near the back and finally emerged with a leather jacket which he tossed onto the foot of the bed. John picked it up and held it up for inspection. Black with red stripes, with padding in all the strategic places.

John swallowed as his mouth went a little dry. "Greg, do you have a motorbike?"

Greg looked up from where he had been rummaging in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, the drawer that had been designated as John's once he had started leaving random articles of clothing around Greg's flat. He grinned as he turned and placed a folded pair of jeans - black, of course - in John's lap.

He took the jacket from John's limp fingers and slipped it on, zipping it halfway. Greg watched with glee as John swallowed visibly. "Did have, before the divorce. Had to sell it off. Damn near broke my heart. Kept the gear, though. I'm trying to save up for another."

"You kept all the gear?" Greg smirked as he turned and rummaged some more, shaking out the leather trousers and holding them against his body. John squirmed and clutched more firmly at the jeans in his lap.

Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Want me to fetch the helmet, too? Or maybe the gloves?"

"Oh God."

"Is it the leather, John? Or just the idea of me straddling what is essentially a gigantic vibrator?"

" _Guh_."

"You just have a thing for bad boys, don't ya?" Greg cocked his head. "I do still have the license. I could always rent one for a weekend..."

"I - _unf_." John's voice cracked. "I - think I'd, um, like that. Yeah."

"Oh, ya think?" Greg burst out into merry laughter. "We will be exploring this new development a bit later. Now get dressed." He eyed the jeans that John had firmly pressed to his groin. "Or do you need another shower? A cold one, perhaps?"

John scowled. He shook out the jeans and looked at them. "Greg, this is the pair that's too small."

"No, that's the pair that fits you like a sexy second skin." Greg looked at John seriously. "When you wear clothes that fit, nobody can mistake you for anything but the powerful man you are. You like wearing baggy clothes because it's easier for people to underestimate you."

John blushed. "I won't be able to breathe."

"You'll be fine. Just skip your pants. I did." Greg turned and gave his arse a little wiggle.  
   
John snorted, and proceeded to wriggle into the jeans while lying on the bed. After carefully tucking himself away and even more carefully doing up the zip he stood and went to the mirror. There was maybe a little overlap of flesh at the waistline, but it wasn't too bad. And it wasn't as difficult to breathe as he had feared. Greg popped up behind him and shoved a t-shirt over his head.  
   
"See, told ya. Sexy little bastard." John scowled and struggled to get the shirt situated properly, seeing as how his arms had been neatly pinned by the confining fabric.  
   
"For fuck's sake. What is this obsession you suddenly have with shoving me into clothes that are two sizes too small!"  
   
"You're my arm candy tonight. I want to show you off." Greg fussed with the shirt, got it settled. John stood and glared, hands on his hips, muscles tense. Greg cooed with delight as he traced the outlines of John's arms. "See? Shows you to advantage."  
   
John looked at himself seriously and had to concede the point. Although he hadn't been able to follow his normal exercise routine on any regular basis since coming back to London, running around after Sherlock on his mad adventures had managed to keep him rather fit. He looked down at the Clash t-shirt that Greg had unexpectedly gifted him with. White instead of black, a simple graphic of the _London Calling_ album cover.  
   
His eyes met Greg's in the mirror. "All right, yeah. Not looking half bad, if I do say so myself." Greg grinned, and John's heart actually skipped a beat. He frowned to himself as Greg bent to retrieve something from under the bed. Does that shit actually happen outside of cheesy romance novels?  
   
"Got ya something." John looked down at the shoebox that Greg was holding out to him. "They were on sale, and well... Thought about getting the red, like The Doctor. But I figured the blue were more you."  
   
John pulled out the brand-new pair of All-Stars and chuckled. Not navy blue, but bright, cobalt blue. "They're lovely, Greg. Thank you." He stood on tip-toe to kiss Greg's cheek and then sat down on the edge of the bed to put them on. After tying them securely he stood and bounced up and down a couple times experimentally. "Perfect fit." Greg grinned again. "We ready, then?"  
   
"Just about. Hold on a tic." Greg squeezed some more of the hair gel into his palm, rubbed his hands together and then attacked John's head with it, tousling and thoroughly mussing up his tawny mop. John sighed heavily as Greg turned him to the mirror once again.  
   
"I look like I just rolled out of bed after an epic shagging."  
   
"Perfect!" Greg wiped his hands on his jeans and then grabbed John's hand, leading him toward the door. He only paused long enough for John to grab and don his black patched jacket before hauling him out on to the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant night out...

They took the tube to Soho, figuring on a taxi back. Greg and John sat together, not speaking much, only their legs touching. Greg was naturally affectionate, but tended to be cautious when out in public. Perhaps overly so, but John could hardly blame him. You heard stories every day...  
   
They got off at Tottenham Court Road, and as they came nearer to what Greg obviously determined to be safe territory, John could almost feel the aura around him shifting, his muscles loosening, his mood lifting. He put his arm around John's shoulders and it slowly migrated to his waist, until the cheeky bastard slipped his hand into John's back pocket.  
   
John threw his arm around Greg's waist and grinned. "There's that possessiveness again..."  
   
Greg smiled back, but shook his head slightly. "It's more than that. Hard to explain."  
   
"You can try."  
   
Greg pondered. "It's not just, 'Hey, this man is mine, mitts off', it's like - 'See this amazing bloke - he chose me. He thinks I'm special.' I mean, yeah, you're mine. But I'm yours too, y'know?"  
   
John squeezed Greg's waist. "Yeah. I get it." He chuckled softly. "You're a soppy ol' thing, aren't ya?"  
   
Greg guffawed as they came to the club's entrance. "Yeah, that's me. Soft and gooey all over."

John laughed. "Except for the hair, of course."

Greg squeezed the arse-cheek that he was cupping through John's back pocket before paying the cover and leading the way inside. He turned a manic grin on John. "You ready for this?"  
   
John shook his head. "Not in the least. But lead on."

The combination of heat and noise seemed almost as solid as a wall to John. He rocked back slightly and then straightened his shoulders as he followed behind Greg. They left their jackets at the cloakroom and then worked their way toward the bar, Greg leading the way, holding firmly onto John's hand.

John could feel several pairs of eyes focus on them as they pushed their way through the crowd, and he suppressed a little shudder. After his years in the service, Afghanistan in particular, he was always uncomfortably aware when unfamiliar attention was focused on him, and it was never a pleasant sensation. It was something else when he felt Greg's, or even Sherlock's, gaze from across a room. That felt warm, pleasant. This was cold, calculating. The eyes were judging, weighing, in turns either dismissive or entirely too interested. 

Greg bellied up to the bar and pulled John up next to him. He slipped his arm around his waist and snugged in close. He put his lips to John's ear. "New blood. They're a bit like sharks that way." Greg chuckled, breath ruffling in John's ear, causing him to shiver deliciously. "Don't worry, love, they're not about to attack." He pulled back slightly, gaze raking over John's body before gathering him close again. "Only one you need to worry about is me." 

He sucked John's earlobe into his mouth and gave it a hearty nibble. John jumped and gave him a little shove, going up on tip-toe to capture his mouth. He let his entire being shrink down to that one point of contact, grounding him in the moment, grounding him to Greg. 

Greg hummed as John pulled away, eyes opening slowly. "Better now?" John grinned and nodded. "Good." He turned to the bar and smacked his hand down hard. " _Oi!_ Geoff!" The burly bald-headed man that was tending the bar turned with an incredulous look on his face. That quickly dissolved upon seeing Greg, his frown twisting into a smirk.

"Greg! Ye dandy dobber." A distinctly Scottish voice boomed out of his barrel chest. "Huvnae seen ye roond haur fur a guid lang while. Whit hae ye bin daein'?" Greg grinned and squeezed John in close again. Geoff's warm brown eyes ran over John's body and he grinned in return. "Ach. _Weel dain_ , mucker." John rolled his eyes, but found himself mirroring the grin.

"Give us a couple pints, woulda mate?" Geoff nodded and poured them out before sliding them across the bar. Greg winked at him and Geoff laughed heartily as he turned to help other patrons. Greg's eyes roved over the crowd as he knocked back his bitter. 

John drained half of his pint in one pull, feeling Greg's body absolutely vibrating with playful energy next to him. He didn't think he had ever seen Greg quite like this, genuinely thrilled to be in this overcrowded and incredibly noisy club. He recognised the opening strains of Oingo Boingo's _'Only A Lad'_ , and Greg turned to him, dark eyes glinting with delight. 

"Sure you don't want to join me?" John nodded and took Greg by the arms, turning him around and then smacking him on the arse. Greg threw him a look over his shoulder but took the hint, diving into the crowd on the dance floor on his own. He bounced and wriggled and writhed with abandon, earning him a few raised eyebrows and even more admiring glances from the men around him. 

John exchanged a look with the bartender, both of them shaking their heads slightly. Honestly, where did it all come from? If this was Greg now, at nearly forty-six years of age, what must he have been like twenty, or hell, even ten years ago? John grinned to himself. Whatever he was then, it didn't matter. He was his now, and John thought himself extremely fortunate to have found him, to have found love in this rather unexpected but still delightfully gorgeous form. 

John tapped his finger against his pint glass in sudden contemplation. Yeah, love. He was in love with the overly bouncy bastard. Had been since their first time together, if he was completely honest with himself. Instead of feeling relief at his epiphany, he found himself wondering and worrying. Did Greg love him in return? John looked up again, caught the wild grin that was being thrown in his direction. Yeah, maybe. 

Unexpectedly, Sherlock's face loomed in John's mind, his blue-green-silver eyes narrowed in thought, the small _'oh'_ when seemingly unconnected facts were suddenly united in his mind and illumination dawned. There was a kind of love there too, of course. John had dedicated himself to the mad genius that very first night, when he had raised his weapon against a stranger. A stranger that had been coercing Sherlock into doing something rather rash and utterly stupid. John had seen immediately that his not-quite-flatmate was in danger, and he had acted without a second thought.    

Was he going to be able to keep both of these men in his life? Greg had been almost too understanding every time Sherlock had interfered (albeit unknowingly) on their 'pub nights' with one mad scheme or another. At first John didn't quite comprehend how Greg could be as patient as he was, but then - he and Sherlock had a history of their own, didn't they? John could see it sometimes, that longing in Greg's eyes, especially when Sherlock was being particularly abrasive. John thought that perhaps Greg saw that prickliness the same way he did - it came out in force when Sherlock was feeling especially vulnerable, and both he and Greg seemed to want to comfort the lanky git when that happened. 

But of course they couldn't, could they? If Sherlock knew that they could both see right through him like that - he would just push them away. And then what would happen? Nothing good, John knew that. So, what to do? He loved Greg - body, mind and soul. John wanted him in his life, hopefully for good. But he also loved Sherlock, mind and soul, if not body. There was no way he was going to let him go either. What to do - nothing. John sighed. He would just wait it out. Wait until Greg's patience finally broke, until an ultimatum was issued. Until then, he would just enjoy the moment.  
   
So John watched. Watched Greg as he moved in the crowd, dancing with whoever happened to be near, fending off their advances with an easy grin and nod toward the bar. Most took his meaning immediately, greedy hands suddenly dropping from Greg's arm or waist, but perhaps staying close, enjoying his enthusiasm for the dance a while longer. Others seemed to insist, but once they finally acknowledged John's presence, standing firm, eyes flinty, they would disappear into the crowd, perhaps hoping for an easier mark.  
   
And then a tall man with shaggy brown hair came up behind Greg, and neatly folded him into an embrace. John watched as Greg stiffened, but then visibly relaxed. He turned in the man's arms and returned the embrace, going up on tip-toe to kiss him on the cheek. An old friend, perhaps. John chuckled as the other man took up a ballroom stance, taking Greg around the waist with one arm and holding their clasped hands away from their bodies. He swirled and dipped, guiding Greg through the crowd with expert ease.  
   
So this must be Edward, then. The man who had literally swept Greg off his feet, all those years ago. The man who made him realise who he really was, after decades of indecision and doubt. Greg would talk of him, from time to time, never in any negative sense, and with no longing in his voice. Whatever there was between the two men, Greg certainly did not regret either the relationship, or the termination of such. John had the feeling that they had simply drifted apart, as happened all too often, but Greg treasured the memories nonetheless. Besides, Edward had been his first, and while it clearly hadn't worked out, there was obviously a soft spot for him in Greg's heart.  
   
John watched some more as they fell into a familiar pattern, an easy rhythm. Edward knew how Greg moved, knew how to move him, and Greg followed his lead without hesitation or protest. John frowned to himself slightly, warring emotions filling his chest. Jealousy? Perhaps, although Greg had never given him any reason to doubt his loyalty. No, there was something else there, something he couldn't quite place.  
   
He smelled the man's cologne, overly spicy, before he felt his touch, just a tentative tap on the shoulder. John turned, eyes raking over the intruder to his personal space. He was John's height, perhaps mid-thirties, with a mop of hair a shade of white-blonde that had obviously come from a bottle. His green eyes looked at him hopefully, and John almost felt a twinge of pity.  
   
"Buy ya a drink?" The man's voice was pleasant, lilting with a slight Irish accent.  
   
John held up his nearly empty pint. "Nah, I'm good."  
   
"Dance, t'en?"  
   
John coughed self-consciously. "I'm actually here with someone. Just, y'know..." His eyes returned to the dance floor, where Edward was holding his lover from behind, Greg's head tipped back on his shoulder, both of their hips swaying together to the beat.  
   
"Ya like ta watch, aye?"  
   
"Hmm?" John took a sip of his bitter as he turned his eyes back to the stranger. "What do you mean?"  
   
"'E's yours, in't 'e? Tha silver punky bloke?"  
   
John chuckled. "Yeah. He is."  
   
The stranger smiled. "Lucky sod." John wasn't sure if he meant Greg or himself, but he could only agree. "Ya like watchin' him wit' other men."  
   
John's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped abruptly at the sight of Edward nuzzling at Greg's neck. His body jerked, and he felt his cock twitch in his too-snug jeans.  
   
The stranger eyed him. "Ya din't know?"  
   
John frowned. "I - "  
   
The man leaned in close to John's ear. "Ya gonna do sumtin' about it t'en?" He pulled away and winked, then melted into the crowd.  
   
John turned his attention back to Greg, who had pulled away from Edward slightly. Apparently, he was taking exception to the nuzzle, glancing back at John with concern. Edward looked up, caught John's eye and broke into a smile. Then he swept Greg up into the dance again, keeping a somewhat respectable amount of distance between their bodies. John watched as Greg relaxed as he was pulled back into that rhythm, the kind of easy motion that was only possible with someone who really knew your body.  
   
John frowned again, thinking over the stranger's words. Jealousy, irrational possessiveness, curiosity, and yes, desire. John knew how to make Greg gasp and moan, but this man - this man knew how to make Greg's body sing. John surprised himself with the sudden realisation that he wanted to see that happen. Oh _God_ , did he ever.

But how to even approach the idea? Their relationship was still so new, and the first of its kind that John had even attempted. Would Greg take it the wrong way, think that John wasn't happy with him alone? He turned back to the bar, catching Geoff's eye and wordlessly ordering another pint. He had downed about a quarter when he felt Greg's arm snake around his waist. John turned his head and Greg captured his mouth in a ferocious kiss.

"I know, I'm all mucky. Sorry, love." Greg licked his lips nervously, casting his eyes down to the bar. "Listen - earlier - Edward, well he didn't know and it didn't mean anything. I mean, we've just always had this chemistry and y'know..." John just eyed him. Greg took a small step back. "John, you all right? You look, uh... _intense_."

John closed the distance between them and reached up to pull Greg's ear down to his mouth. "You two looked - amazing together. So fucking _hot_." He nibbled on Greg's earlobe, smiling when his body jerked under his hands. John pressed in closer, rolling his hips against Greg. "I think I'd like to see more."

Greg's breath quickened. "More?" His voice squeaked slightly and John chuckled as he nodded. "I - umm... Well." John continued to nibble on ear and neck, licking away Greg's sweat. "That's, um - new."

John stepped back, grinned up at his lover. "Yeah. I'm a bit surprised too." He clasped Greg's hand and squeezed. "Maybe this isn't something that should be done on the spur of the moment." He placed a chaste kiss on Greg's cheek. "We can talk about it later." John nodded back toward the dance floor. "Go on then - back to your manic wriggling."

Greg rolled his eyes and pulled John in tight, pressing his stiffening cock into John's belly. He grinned wickedly as John's body shuddered. "You drop something like that on me and then expect me to just go back to dancing? Are you _daft_?"

John hummed and ran his hands up Greg's back, fingers catching on the sweat-dampened fabric of his t-shirt. "Then maybe it's time you introduced me to the ex?"

Greg's eyes searched John's face briefly, and seemed to be satisfied with what he saw. "Oh, _hell_ yeah." He swept John up and kissed him until they were both breathless, and then turned and dove back into the crowd without another word.

John's head was spinning slightly as he turned back to his pint. It was certainly turning out to be a much more interesting night than he had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the interested, here is a brief translation of Geoff's patois...
> 
> “Greg! You dandy bastard. Haven’t seen you round here for a good long while. What have you been doing? Oh. Well done, mucker.”
> 
> ********************************************************************************************************
> 
> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets the ex. There's a bit of conflict, but still a happy ending... 
> 
> (wink, wink, nudge, nudge...)

It was only a matter of moments before Greg had returned, dragging Edward along behind him. John turned, his pint at his mouth as he regarded the pair seriously. He put his pint down and cocked his head and then laughed. Greg frowned and leaned into his ear. 

"John?"

"You seriously don't think you have a thing for Eccleston?" Greg's frown deepened. "Just step back for a second and look at him. Really _look_ , Greg."

Greg did just that, staring intensely at Edward, making him fidget. "Oh God. I never noticed it before. Not once."

Edward leaned into the pair of them. "What the hell?"

John poked him in the chest. "You look like The Ninth Doctor. Greg's been trying to tell me that he wasn't crushing hard, but then he drags _you_ over..."

Edward grinned easily. "Oh, that. I've had a couple of people mention it. Mostly little geeky blokes. They're usually pretty fun for a ride or two." He cocked his head at John. "You're not what I would have expected. You're so..."

John suddenly knew without a doubt what he was about to say, and found himself standing a bit straighter and crossing his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps unnecessarily. "So help me, if you say 'little' or 'small' or any other derivative, I _will_ take you down right here and now."

Edward's eyes flashed with delight. "Fierce. I was going to say _fierce_ , darling."

John relaxed only slightly as Edward straightened to his full height, towering a full eight inches over him. He turned to Greg and stood on tip-toe to whisper into his ear. "I'm not entirely sure I like him."

"We don't have to do this, John."

John considered briefly, remembering the quick flash of pure desire that he felt when he saw Edward's lips on Greg's neck. "Let's at least talk."

Greg nodded and then took his hand, leading him through the crowd to a door in the back. He didn't bother to look behind him to see if Edward had followed. After knocking on a couple of doors and getting muffled yells in response, Greg pushed into an unoccupied room. He eyed the grungy sofa dubiously before rummaging in a nearby basket that had been clearly marked 'Clean Linens', and coming up with a bedsheet, spread it out to cover the sofa completely.

Greg sat down in the middle and John snugged up to his side, reaching out to place a hand on his upper thigh. Greg smiled at him and twined their fingers together. John inhaled the heavy odour of bleach from the fabric and somehow felt comforted by it.

Edward chuckled quietly as he entered and closed the door behind him, locking it securely. "There are many questionable things that happen here, but they are at least as clean as they can be. Laundry service every other day." He looked around the dingy room with a distinct air of fondness. "That's one reason this is one of my favourite clubs in the city."

"And the other reason?"

Edward glanced at John before settling his eyes on Greg. "The clientele, of course."

"Ah."

Edward remained standing, pacing slowly back and forth in front of the sofa. "So why am I here, anyway? All Greg said was that you wanted to meet me and talk about something."

John took in a breath. "I want to watch."

The pacing stopped. "Watch what, exactly?"

"You and Greg. Together."

Edward's eyes lit up in a way that John was not at all certain he liked. "Have you ever _watched_ , John?"

John fidgeted. "I've seen live - shows, I guess you could call it. But never with my partner as one of the participants, no."

"I've seen it tear couples apart, you know."

Greg cleared his throat. "We aren't worried about that. After all, Edward, you wouldn't _try_ to tear us apart, would you?" There was a faint growl to his words, a definitive warning.

Edward smirked viciously. "How is Sherlock, by the way?"

Greg blinked at the sudden change of subject, but decided to go with it. "He's fine. Doing really well, actually. Consults with me on my cases all the time. Still an utter prick, but what can you do about that?"

"Fuck the cheek out of him?"

"Edward, you know as well as I do that would never happen. And besides..." Greg hesitated. "John here is his flatmate."

Edward turned an incredulous look on John. "Playing with fire there, mate. Your copper here is in _love_ with that giant arse, you know that, right?"

"Edward, Jesus _Christ!_ "

John just looked back at him calmly, watching with satisfaction as Edward's vindictive glare faded away. "I'm aware. He's not the only one." Edward deflated as John squeezed Greg's hand. "Didn't take long for me to figure out. That 'giant arse', as you call him, is always dragging me over half of London with him on his cases. Dragging me away from Greg, in fact. But he never puts up a fuss." John looked at Greg steadily. "I realised that he wanted Sherlock to be safe, and that he knew that I was the one who could do that for him. So he always lets me go."

"You make up for it when you come back to me, though." Greg grinned and John blushed faintly.

Edward rolled his eyes dramatically. "Okay, you two are officially disgusting. But are you sure you can handle watching me fuck your boyfriend, Mr. Army?"

"I can handle anything you dish out, arsehole." John's voice was deadly calm, and Greg felt a furious flutter somewhere deep in his gut. He always became ridiculously turned on when his warm and fuzzy John suddenly went all cool and calculating soldier on him. Greg found himself almost wishing that Edward would start something, just so he could see John take him down.

Then he shook himself out of it. "Jesus, Edward, why are you being such a _dick_?"

Edward frowned faintly. "Fuck, I don't know." He looked at Greg, sadness tinging his gaze. "It's been so long since I've seen you, and I don't know that I've ever seen you like - this." He gestured weakly at John and Greg's hands tangled together. "Jealous, maybe? I don't _know_... You and me, Greg, we've always been..."

"Complicated." Greg's voice was soft.

Edward nodded and crouched down in front of him. He reached out to touch his face gently. "I've missed you."

John squeezed Greg's hand and nudged Edward's leg with his foot gently. "Forget about me, mate. Are you going to be able to handle this?"

Edward tilted his head and studied John carefully. "Greg knows that I've never allowed a silly little thing like emotion to get in the way of hot sex."

John's brow suddenly cleared. "Ah."

Edward found himself laughing. "So he never told you why we broke up..."

"I have a clearer understanding now, of course."

Edward returned his gaze to Greg, who regarded him seriously. "I do regret the way I treated you."

"I know, Edward. You've said, multiple times. Apologies and regret can only take you so far." Greg took in a deep breath. "You and I are done. We were done a long time ago. This - if this happens, will be the extent of our relationship. If you're going to have a problem with that, better back out now."

Edward blinked at him. "And miss my chance at having that fine arse again? I don't bloody think so." He stood abruptly, pulling Greg up with him. He shot John a challenging look, but John only smiled crookedly and nodded. Edward frowned down at him and pulled Greg in close, tilting his head back and pressing their lips together.

Greg sighed and opened his mouth, eagerly returning his kiss, letting John's hand slip from his grip. Edward snaked his arms around him, running his hands from Greg's shoulders to his arse, clutching at him and pulling their groins together firmly. He released Greg's mouth and peppered open-mouthed kisses down his neck, nibbling on his collarbone. Greg groaned, throwing his head back and burying his hands in Edward's hair.

"Oh God, yes." Greg rolled his hips slightly and opened his eyes, pupils blown wide. " _Mm_. I've missed you too."

Edward licked up Greg's throat, nipping at his Adam's apple as he pulled away. He looked to John again, a distant fire in his eyes. "Nothing?"

"Other than being incredibly turned on by a searingly hot kiss?" John looked at Edward steadily, a little sadly. "No. You can't make me jealous, Edward. I suggest you stop trying. I know where Greg's loyalty lies."

The fire in Edward's eyes flared up. "And if Sherlock were to wake up one day and realise what he'd been missing out on? For either of you? You'd drop John like a red-hot poker for that chance, Greg. You know that."

"I don't know any such thing. Doesn't matter, Edward. Sherlock won't come in between us." Greg traced Edward's jawline with his fingers. "Without Sherlock, John and I never would have happened. He's what brought us together. No amount of your ranting is going to introduce doubt into our relationship." Greg pressed a simple kiss to the corner of Edward's mouth and released him. "You're not ready for this."

Edward growled faintly and swiftly turned Greg around, pressing his hard cock into the cleft of his arse. Greg moaned. "You think I'm not ready?"

Greg disengaged and stepped back, sitting down next to John again. "That's always ready, Edward. Your cock doesn't have a say in matters, though. We all have things to think about, apparently. Tonight is not the night for - whatever - to happen. Think about it. Call me when you've made a decision." He looked up at Edward seriously. "I know you still have my number, even if you haven't felt the need to use it in a while."

Edward stared at the couple sitting on the couch, mind whirling. "You're right, Greg. But of course, you're always right, aren't you?" He turned away, back stiff and unyielding. "I'm tempted to just pull it out and wank right here, you know."

"John and I can leave if you need a little privacy. Or you could go find someone to drag back to the loo. You were always good at finding an all-too-willing mouth, Edward."

Edward's head snapped back to glare at Greg, who looked back calmly. "That's a rather low blow coming from you, darling."

"I always thought that you were rather proud of that ability, Edward. Hence your need to show it off at every available opportunity." Greg heard John suck in breath beside him.

"Sod this." Edward stalked toward the door before pausing briefly. "I'll call you. _Maybe_." And then he was gone, the door slamming behind him with finality.

John shifted suddenly, straddling Greg's thighs. "That _was_  a bit low, sweetheart." He grinned. "Sherlock's rubbing off on you."

Greg groaned. "God, I didn't _want_ to be mean - he made me! Acting like such a prick - I just couldn't stand it anymore."

"I thought it was rather sexy, you taking him down a notch like that." John hummed and wriggled on Greg's lap. "But then, just about everything you do is sexy."

Greg grinned and ran his hands over John's chest and arms. "What about you posing and flexing like some kind of Greek god out there? I was kinda hoping he'd say something to really piss you off so I'd get a show..."

John leaned in to nibble on Greg's earlobe. "Maybe next time."

Greg groaned. "You think there'll be a next time? He was pretty pissed off."

"He's jealous. But he wants you, Greg. Badly. He'll call."

" _Mm_. Can't wait." Greg tilted his head back on the couch and regarded John seriously. "Where did this come from, anyway?"

John bit his lip. "I don't really know. I saw you two out there, and - the way you were moving together, you just fit. He knows your body, in ways that I don't."

"Maybe not yet. But we have time, John."

"It's not just that, though. I don't necessarily want to watch you have sex with another bloke. I want to watch you. I want to watch as your body trembles, I want to hear all the glorious noises you make. I want to see your face when you come, and I want to see it all from the outside. As an observer, not a participant. I don't want my mind clouded with my own body's need for release to interfere." John tilted his head. "Sounds daft, doesn't it?"

Greg's mouth was hanging open slightly, a glassy look in his eyes and a distinct flush on his cheeks. "No, not at all. Sounds like I'm not the only one that Sherlock is rubbing off on." He grinned suddenly. "It sounds like an experiment."

John's eyes widened. "Fuck."

"We could go back out there and find someone else..." Greg stopped and considered. "No, we couldn't. It has to be Edward. Like you said, he knows me." He ran his hands down John's chest to his belly, resting his fingertips lightly on the bulge trapped in his jeans. John groaned. "About Sherlock..."

"It doesn't really need to be said, Greg. We both know how we feel about him. If ever there is a chance for either of us, that chance should be taken. It doesn't mean that we'll have to lose each other, right? We'll just take it as it comes. Besides which, that chance is so absurdly remote that it's fairly safe to say that it will never happen. So we just don't worry about it, yeah?"

Greg's eyes glinted as he palmed John's erection. "No, we don't worry about it. What we do, is _use_ it. How would you do it, John? How would you want to take him? Get him down on his knees, force him to open up that pretty mouth of his and stuff your cock down his throat? Or do you see him taking you, maybe at a crime scene, down some alley behind a rubbish bin? Fucking you up against a wall like I did the first time? _Tell me_."

John gasped as Greg scrabbled at his zip, struggling to free his cock. "Oh Jesus - wait just a sec - _ngh_." John scrambled to his feet and unzipped himself, wriggling his hips to get the too-snug jeans down to mid-thigh. Greg stood abruptly and went to a nearby cabinet to snag some lube. He coated his fingers and turned John around, pressing up flush against his back as he fisted his cock. 

"Imagine I'm Sherlock, John. How does it feel, to have those beautiful violinist's fingers on your cock? Caressing your bollocks?" He kissed and nipped at the back of John's neck while working his cock. "His mouth, kissing you, biting you. Marking you as his. Would you want to be his and _only_ his, John? Maybe we'd pass you back and forth like a fucking party favor. You could suck him off and then I could bend you over and fuck you until you saw _stars_." John moaned and bucked mindlessly as Greg's free hand snuck in between their bodies. He let his fingers flutter and dance along the cleft of John's firm, thrusting arse. 

"Or we could take you together. Would you like that, John? Both of us fucking you together, like the tart that you are? Fucking your arse, fucking your mouth, hell maybe even Mycroft could join in and you could pull him off while Sherlock and I _use_ you. Whose name would you call out when you came, I wonder?" Greg chuckled darkly, feeling John's bollocks pulling up tight. "As if you'd be able to utter a word with my fat cock down your throat. Hot, pulsing, filling you up, John. Filling you up in so many ways. Sherlock between your thighs, pounding mercilessly, making you beg for more. Would you beg, John? To be fucked by _both_ of us?"

John's breath seemed to get caught in his throat as he threw back his head and thrust wildly once, twice, before coming, semen spurting through Greg's fingers. Greg leaned close, catching a bare whisper. _"Sher - Greg... Oh God..."_

Greg laughed again, releasing John and stepping back, calmly licking up the mess that John had left behind on his fingers. He eyed his back as John stood there, swaying slightly, seemingly catching his breath. When John turned, his eyes were bright and wild.

_"Fucking hell, Greg!"_ Greg jumped, a little startled by the volume of John's voice. John shuffled over to him and dropped to his knees, fumbling at Greg's zip. "What the fucking _Christ_ was that other than the fucking _hottest_ and _dirtiest_ fucking thing I have ever heard from your mouth and _Jesus_ you have to do that again and just fuck!" He finally succeeded in freeing Greg's cock and shoved his jeans down just far enough before just deep-throating him, clutching Greg's arse-cheeks firmly and pressing his face into his crotch as far as it could go. John gagged and pulled off briefly as Greg clutched at his shoulders in surprise. "Just - fuck, Greg. _Fuck_."

He swallowed Greg down again, going a bit slower this time, but no less intense or deep. Greg staggered slightly, groaning loudly at the feeling of John's throat around the head of his cock. John squeezed at his arse-cheeks, and Greg took that as a cue to move. He did so, only slight rocking motions at first, but encouraged by John's moans around his flesh, he soon increased his pace. Wouldn't take long, not with the way John felt around him, so hot and wet. He felt a distinct tug at his bollocks and John's fingers working their way to his perineum, and then he was simply there, clutching John's head to him as his body jerked and spasmed.

John pulled off, chest heaving, looking up at Greg with wild eyes. His hair was sticking up in messy spikes, lips puffy and red, a thin line of drool mixed with come oozing from a corner of his mouth. Greg groaned and fell to his knees in front of him, licking up the errant drip and attacking John's mouth. John's arms came up to hold him tightly and he kissed him back fiercely, giving just as good as he was getting.

They pulled apart slightly to breathe, John's eyes still a little wild around the edges. "We have to do that again. Your _mouth_ , Jesus." He leaned in to nip at Greg's lower lip. "God, the things that I want to do to that mouth."

Greg grinned. "Back to mine, yeah?"

John sat back briefly before standing and struggling to pull his jeans back up. "Actually... I'd rather like a shower together. Sherlock's still out - let's go back to Baker Street."

Greg looked up at him, eyes glinting before standing and getting his jeans settled. He pulled John in for another kiss and leaned into his ear. "And maybe we'll fuck on his armchair, yeah? Defile it just a bit? So every time you see him sitting there, you'll know what we did, and it'll get you excited, just a little." Greg licked at John's ear, making him jump. "And when you're in bed later, and you start wanking, you'll be thinking of him, and of us. Would you like that?"

John pulled away and looked up at Greg in bemusement. "I think you'd like that, you dirty bastard." He grabbed Greg's hand and tugged. "Let's make it _happen_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat typical Tuesday night for Greg and John...

It was one of their usual Tuesdays, John having shown up at Greg's as soon as he was off work at the clinic. Greg had grinned wildly upon seeing him, and fair pulled John off his feet as he ushered him into his flat. Closing the door, Greg had pushed him against it and then dropped to his knees.  
   
He glanced up at John as he was working on getting his trousers and pants down. "Been thinking about last time all day. Damn near had to go into the gents at the Yard and pull one out. You drive me mad, you do."  
   
John grinned and wriggled his hips to aid Greg in his mission. After their intense shag at the club, they had gone to Baker Street, where John had finally been able to fulfill his shower fantasy, Greg going down on him with warm water cascading down his back. Without bothering to get dry, they had stumbled back out into the flat and Greg had bent John over Sherlock's armchair and fucked him near senseless. They had giggled relentlessly at the mess they left behind, but made sure to clean it up as best as they could. Wouldn't do to have the man deducing anything by the wrecked state of his favourite chair...  
   
A shiver ran up John's spine as Greg took him in his mouth, the stubble on his chin scraping deliciously along his bollocks. "Ah, _God_." Greg mumbled his agreement and bobbed his head steadily. John huffed out a quiet laugh as he recognised Greg's patented 'get-John-off-quick-so-you-can-get-yours' tricks. Constant suction, a little twist at the head, rubbing just there, yes _there_. John's head bumped against the door as he felt his bollocks draw up. " _Jesus_." Greg moaned low in his throat and looked up at John from underneath his lashes. John's breath caught in his chest and he clutched at Greg's hair, thrusting deeply twice before coming, body twitching.  
   
Greg licked him through the aftershocks and then John growled, bending down to take his mouth, following him down onto the floor. He sat back on his heels and nodded down at Greg's crotch. "Go on, then, off with it." Greg moaned and fumbled with his zip. "Y'know, if you're that desperate, you can always go first. You don't have to subject me to the hoover treatment."  
   
Greg laughed as he lifted his hips to shove down his jeans and pants. "Don't you like that I know exactly how get you off with a minimum of fuss? Watching you helps to get me there."  
   
"There's a time and a place for efficiency, Greg. I like it when you take your time. And it's lovely that you're so considerate, but it's okay to be selfish once in a while." John bent down and nosed along Greg's length. "I like seeing you get off too."  
   
Greg whined as John's breath brushed along his bollocks. John licked and kissed and nipped along every bit of flesh that he could easily reach, aside from Greg's cock, of course. Greg whined again, fisting his hands into his hair in frustration. "John, what the _fuck_ \- good God, what are you _doing_ to me?"  
   
"I thought I was meant to drive you mad."  
   
"Oh, you little _shit!_ " John laughed as Greg gave in to temptation, reaching down and taking himself in hand. He fished around in his pocket and found the small bottle of lube that he had taken to carrying around with him when he knew he'd be seeing Greg. John hummed as he tipped the bottle over Greg's clenched fist, drizzling just a bit down on the head of his cock as it popped into view.  
   
Greg sighed and moaned, hips bouncing off the floor as he fucked his fist. "That's better, isn't it?" Greg bit his lip and nodded. "Maybe you shouldn't be so impatient next time..." There was a quiet snarl as John laughed and bent down again, scraping his nails along Greg's sides and down his legs. He bit into the tender flesh on his inner thighs, Greg's fist bumping gently against his head. John bent lower, sucked one heavy bollock into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue, then the other.  
   
"John... _Jesus_. Oh, Jesus fucking _Christ_."  
   
"Yeah?" John pitched his voice low, watching both Greg's face and the increasingly erratic movements of his hand.  
   
" _Yes_. Oh, yes!" As Greg's body tensed and his prick started to spurt, John ducked down and closed his mouth over the head securely. "Ah, _FUCK!_ " John sucked deeply, following the motion of Greg's hips rising off the floor to meet his mouth. He rode him down, mouth still firmly attached. Once all of Greg's tremors had subsided, John slid his mouth upward, coming off Greg's cock with a significant pop. Greg's eyes were wide, unblinking. He hitched in one shaky breath, and then another. He cursed as he let it out. "Dear-sweet-baby- _Jesus_ -and-all-the-saints-you-little-sonovabitch-I- _hate_ -you-oh-my- _God_." Greg eyed John balefully, who was sitting there looking innocent. As innocent as a man could be who had his trousers around his ankles while he kneeled in between the thighs of a similarly-attired man, anyway.

"You adore me, you gorgeous fucker."

Greg grinned weakly. "Maybe." He sat up slowly, putting a hand to his head. John stood and pulled up his pants and trousers before offering a hand to Greg, who took it gratefully. He hauled himself up and re-dressed before collapsing onto the sofa, pulling John down with him.

John sighed as he snugged up under Greg's arm, both of them settling into a peaceful post-coital haze, until Greg's stomach growled loudly. John squinted up at him. "Work through lunch again?" Greg shrugged wordlessly. "And I don't suppose you have anything in?" Greg grinned and shook his head as John sighed. "You're hopeless."

"Managed to survive so far, although I do like it when you take care of me."

"Might as well be a nanny. To both you _and_ Sherlock." Greg's stomach growled again. "Ugh, fine. Takeaway, or do you want to go out? We could see what's playing at the cinema, if you think you can behave yourself for a couple of hours."

Greg's hand wandered down John's side and he gave him a healthy pinch. John squealed and Greg laughed. "I think it's out of my system for now. Mostly."

"Randy bastard." John dug his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through the film listings. Greg's text alert sounded, and both of the men stared at his mobile as it rattled over the surface of the coffee table, and then at each other. John shrugged helplessly. "When I last spoke to him he was doing something unspeakable to a jar full of ears."

"Human ears?"

"Of course. All left ears, if he's to be believed."

" _Ergh_." Greg sighed heavily as he reached out and grabbed at his phone sullenly. "Oh." He turned the screen toward John.

_'I'm in - E'_

John nodded. "Told ya."

"Are you sure you want to do this, John?"

"Yes. After we lay down some ground rules, of course. I don't want you meeting up with him on your own, and I'd prefer it to be physical only. No going out to dinner or snuggling on the sofa. That's mine. Protection at all times. We meet here or at the club, someplace where we can toss him out when it's all said and done. I doubt I'd be able to control myself for long enough to get home if we were at his, and I'm sure as fuck not going to give him a show."

Greg swallowed and shifted in his seat. "Um. You've really thought about this."

"I have, yes. I'd like this to happen, Greg. Very much."

Greg quickly composed a return text, his address and _'Friday, 9 pm'_. He tossed his phone back down and pulled John across his lap for a thorough snog.

John sighed as Greg let him up for air, eyes dazed, lips red and swollen. "I guess we're ordering in, then?" Greg grinned and ducked down to take his mouth again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying out the ground rules for Edward, and John gives him a minor attitude adjustment...

"You should answer the door when he gets here."

John looked up from where he was perusing the paper to see Greg pacing yet again. "Love, come sit down. You're working yourself into a frenzy." Greg sighed and sat down next to him on the sofa, but quickly slid down onto his knees in between John's thighs. Greg leaned forward and wrapped his arms around John's middle, resting his head on his chest. John let the paper slip from his fingers and he carded his hands through Greg's hair and then down his back. "It'll be fine." 

Greg sighed again. "I know. I don't know why I'm so - so..."

"Shh. You're worried, that's all. You know how he affects you, and you're concerned about how I'll react once he's buried in your arse all the way to the hilt."

Greg's body twitched under John's hands. _"Jesus fuck."_

"Yeah. Trust me when I say that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I don't trust him, but I do trust _you_. Completely. If something goes wrong, we can toss him out and then delete the whole thing." Greg snorted. "If either one of us decides we can't handle it, then it stops. This is a new situation for the both of us, and we're just going to have to wait and see how everything falls out."

Greg stretched up and nuzzled into John's neck. "Yeah. Okay. Just - keep reassuring me, okay? I'm going to lose track of myself. Check in with me from time to time, remind me that you're there."

"I can do that."

"And you really should be the one to greet him."

John laughed. "Why is that?"

"If it's me, he'll just pounce. We need to have the opportunity to tell him exactly how this is going to work."

" _Mm_. I see what you mean." John pressed a kiss to Greg's forehead, and found his face being pulled down so Greg could snog him properly. They were just starting to lose themselves when the knock came.

_"Bugger."_ John chuckled at Greg's quiet curse. "I was half hoping he would chicken out." Another knock, a bit louder. "Impatient bastard." Greg pulled himself off his knees and sat on the far end of the sofa, giving John a quick nod.

John stood and tugged his clothes back into place before answering the door. Edward had outfitted himself in black jeans and an army green v-neck jumper, topped off with a black leather jacket that seemed just a touch too big on him. John's eyes narrowed as he looked him up and down.

Edward grinned cheekily and spread out his arms. "Thought Greg might appreciate this in particular."

"Not unless you've a sonic screwdriver tucked away as well."

"Nope. But I _do_ have a banana." Edward waggled his eyebrows suggestively and John couldn't hold back a small snort of laughter. "Gonna invite me in or what?"

"Yeah, yeah." John stepped back and threw a glance at Greg as he took in the glory that was Edward all done up like his favourite Doctor.

Greg's eyes widened temporarily, but then narrowed, much as John's had. "Edward, what the fuck. Seriously. How many times did I ask you to sit down and watch it with me, and how many times did you refuse? And now you waltz in looking like, like - _that_."

"I've learned to appreciate classic British telly, I suppose."

"Bullshit." Greg glowered temporarily, but couldn't stop looking him up and down. "Not that it's a bad look on you, I'll admit."

John closed the door behind Edward and then walked back to the sofa. Greg expected him to sit down next to him, and was pleasantly surprised when he instead chose to sit on his lap. Greg pulled John in closer and nosed along his neck, inhaling his scent, finding that it calmed him, somehow.

John hummed, wriggling slightly against the erection that Greg was already sporting. He nodded at Edward. "Are you going to sit?"

"Nah, I'm good. Are we going to do this or what?"

John smiled lazily. "Eventually."

Greg sighed. "Ground rules, Edward. You didn't honestly expect that John would just throw us in bed together and say 'have at it', did you?"

"John? No. You - perhaps."

"Let's get one thing very clear, Edward. I'm doing this because John wants to. I'm doing it _for him_. So if you really want me as badly as you seem to, you should be thanking him for this opportunity, not attempting to slag him off."

The muscles in Edward's jaw clenched as he glanced at John and then away. It was apparent to everyone in the room that he wouldn't be thanking John for anything anytime soon. "Fine." He slipped his jacket off his shoulders and tossed it onto the sofa. "So what are your blasted rules, then?"

John felt Greg swallow uneasily as he looked at Edward standing there, hands on his hips, shoulders and neck tense. He had to admit that the man was terribly fit. John would definitely be able to see the appeal, if it weren't for his godawful attitude.

"First thing you need to understand is that this is to be physical _only_. We aren't going to be having dinner together or going to the cinema or anything like that. You're here purely to fuck Greg senseless." Edward smirked. "I will not be participating, except to watch and to check in with Greg from time to time. When you're done, you _leave_."

"So you can have your turn."

"Damn right. He is mine, after all. Protection at all times. And I mean _all_. Blowjobs, handjobs, fingerfucking, all of it. No rimming." John nudged Greg slightly. "And no licking up anyone's mess unless it's your own and it's off your own body. Is that understood, Gregory?"

Greg blinked and heaved out a breath. "Oh, yes, Captain." Edward snorted and rolled his eyes, but came up short at the look of absolute devotion on his former lover's face. Greg nuzzled into John's neck again, mouthing at his flesh and humming under his breath. John shivered and ran his fingers through Greg's hair.

_"Shit."_

John looked up and almost smirked at the lost expression on Edward's face. He cleared his throat instead. "If either of us says 'stop', then you stop. Immediately. I will take you down if necessary."

Edward scoffed as he dismissed John with a curt glance. "You? Please."

John sighed heavily and disengaged Greg's hold on him before clambering off of his lap. "Fine. If that's how you want it to be." He stood in front of Edward, feet spread slightly, arms loose. He waited for Edward to make the same mistake that all large men seemed to, simply lunging forward and counting on his size to carry him through. John sidestepped neatly, grasping Edward's outstretched arm and sweeping his legs out from underneath him at the same time. He used his torso to twist and bring Edward's arm up behind his back, wrapping his other arm securely around his neck. John held fast as Edward struggled against him, and smiled at Greg's quiet moan.

"Get off, you fucking _bastard_!"

" _Shh_. Calm down, mate." John's voice was low and quiet in Edward's ear. "I can hold on until you pass out, you know." Edward's struggles ceased abruptly, and John eased up on the pressure around his windpipe. " _Good boy_. Now. Acknowledge that you have no power here. Ultimately, you are here because I want you here. And I can get rid of you at any time. Do you understand?"

Edward's voice was shaking with anger. "I do."

"And do you agree to the rules we've outlined?"

"Yes." 

"Who is in control here?"

"You are, you little _shit_." A snarl as John tightened his hold slightly.

When John spoke again, his voice was deadly calm. "None of that, now. You will behave, or I will send you away. After beating the shitty attitude out of you, of course." John glanced up to where Greg was now sitting on the very edge of the sofa. He had one fist to his mouth, teeth set in firmly, while the other was palming his erection through his jeans. "Gregory. Stop that this  _instant_." Greg whined and clenched his fists against the sofa cushions. John turned his attention back to Edward. "You're going to want to start slow. Displays like this turn him on like mad. If I were to touch him right now, he'd pop off like anything."

Edward took in a shallow breath and let out a shaky laugh. "I'll see what I can do to prolong his torture, shall I?"

"I would greatly appreciate it." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward has the opportunity to take Greg once again...

John slowly released his captive and backed away before circling around to face him. Edward remained on his knees for a moment longer, glancing over at Greg before looking up at John. "So how much of that was you putting me in my place, and how much of it was purely for his benefit?"  
   
John grinned and dropped a sly wink. "About half-and-half, I'd say."  
   
Edward huffed out a breath and stood, stretching out the kinks in his neck. He nodded down at John curtly, grudgingly giving him some degree of the respect that he was previously lacking. Then he seemed to dismiss him, looking around the small flat with obvious interest and just a hint of distaste. His eye caught the small hi-fi set resting on the bookshelf and he went over to flip it on. Edward hit 'play' on the mp3 player that was docked, not really caring what was queued up. He could dance to just about anything, anyway.

_'What is that?'_   
_'It's priest. Have a little priest.'_   
_'Is it any good?'_   
_'Sir, it's too good, at least. Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh, so it's pretty fresh.'_

Edward smirked even as he held a hand out to Greg. "I attempt to introduce you to the wonder that is musical theatre, and this is the dreck that you latch onto. Honestly, Greg. You're so morbid." He pulled him to his feet and started whirling him around in the small room, keeping their steps short and contained. Greg grinned, falling into his pattern easily. "I suppose that's why you get on with Sherlock so well." He threw a sideways glance at John, where he was leaning up against the wall.

Greg glared up at Edward and opened his mouth to speak, but John's voice cut in first. " _Ah-ah_ , Edward. What did I say about behaving? Besides, mentioning Sherlock will not get you the result you're obviously hoping for."

_'Anything that's lean?'_   
_'Well then, if you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine. Anyway, it's clean. Though of course it tastes of wherever it's been!'_

"No?"

John crossed his arms over his chest. "No. What it will get you is kicked out while Greg and I go bugger each other silly. You unleashed quite the beast last time." He nodded toward Greg as the couple twirled past. "The mouth on that man - Jesus, that _mouth_. I don't think I'd ever gotten off so hard or so fast before. And it was all due to his hand and his mouth, whispering the filthy things that we'd do to Sherlock, the wonderful awful things that they'd do to me." John shuddered visibly and Greg moaned low in his throat. "So yeah, if you want to cut your visit remarkably short..."

"I get you, okay? Won't happen again."

"You're finally starting to show some sense."

_'The history of the world, my love - '_  
 _'Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favours...'_  
 _' - is those below serving those up above.'_  
 _'Everybody shaves, so there should be plenty of flavors...'_  
 _'How gratifying for once to know, that those above will serve those down below!'_  
   
Edward continued to twirl Greg around in time to the music, dipping him at the end of the song. Greg giggled unabashedly, just as he was expecting. Edward smiled down at the man in his arms before pulling him back up and drawing him in closer. He ducked down and put his nose to Greg's neck, inhaling deeply.  
   
"I'd forgotten how wonderful you smell..." Greg gasped quietly as Edward caught his earlobe in his teeth and tugged gently. They swayed together as the next song came on, a nice solid new-wave beat.  
   
 _'Come on and lay with me_  
 _Come on and lie to me_  
 _Tell me you love me_  
 _Say I'm the only one'_  
   
Edward stiffened abruptly and turned to stare at John, who had remained leaning against the wall. John shrugged, a tiny but vicious smirk on the corner of his lips. "It's on random, mate."  
   
Greg grasped Edward's chin and brought his face back to his again. "Rather apropos, though." He leaned up to lay a kiss on the corner of his lips, swaying his hips to the beat. Greg huffed out a quiet laugh, smiling as Edward shivered. "Could even call this our song, couldn't you?" Greg's gentle smile did not falter, even as Edward glared down at him. After a few moments, the glare softened, and Edward sighed as he wrapped his arms around Greg, nose to his neck, simply holding on through the duration of the song.  
   
 _'Experiences have a lasting impression_  
 _But words once spoken_  
 _Don't mean a lot now_  
 _Belief is the way_  
 _The way of the innocent_  
 _And when I say innocent_  
 _I should say naive_  
 _So lie to me_  
 _But do it with sincerity_  
 _Make me listen_  
 _Just for a minute_  
 _Make me think_  
 _There's some truth in it...'_

Greg ran his hands from Edward's shoulders to the bottom hem of his jumper, slipping them underneath to caress bare flesh. "Stop thinking, E." Greg smiled as Edward's hot breath shuddered over his neck. "Stop thinking of the past. Now is what matters, yeah? You want me, and oh  _God_  do I want you." He pulled back slightly and looked up at Edward from underneath his lashes. "You do want me, don't you?" He put just a hint of innocence in his voice, and widened his eyes slightly.

Edward looked down at him, fighting an answering grin. Greg blinked and pouted, ever-so-slightly. Edward broke, that achingly familiar laugh-growl reverberating in the air between them. Greg laughed, even as the sound once again twisted something in his spine. Edward grabbed his face in both hands. "You little shit. Every time. Every fucking time you put on that silly innocent act, when you know that I want nothing more than to bend you over right here and now."

"You always loved it when I played innocent."

" _Mm_. It certainly appeals to certain parts of me..." Edward demonstrated by pulling Greg in close, pressing his erection to his belly. He bent down to take his mouth, starting slow and heated, the kiss quickly becoming messy and frantic.

"God, oh _God_. Edward, please." Greg dragged his lips along his jawline and bit down hard on his neck. "I want to feel you inside me again."

Edward's arms tightened around him, nearly pulling Greg off his feet. "Harder, darling. You know that I like marks." Edward gasped and moaned as Greg obliged, bearing down on his neck with enough force to make his jaw ache. "God, _yes_." He moaned again as Greg withdrew and dragged his tongue across his teethmarks. "Bedroom. Now."

Greg hummed vaguely and started moving backwards toward the bedroom, not wanting to let go of Edward long enough to navigate properly. There was a tug on the back of his jeans as John took hold and directed the entangled pair in the proper direction.

"I thought you weren't participating, Mr. Army." Edward made that noise again, the little half-laugh, half-growl. Both John and Greg paused, their feet seemingly stopping of their own accord as they shivered at the sound in unison. 

John's cock twitched and he cursed internally before turning to face Edward. "I'm not, I'm just making sure that there are no injuries before you two have even made it to the bed, for God's sake." He straightened his shoulders and turned back around before commencing his tugging, flipping the light on in the bedroom and then stepping away.

John strode over to the opposite wall, where a chair had been placed, facing the foot of the bed. He swiftly drew his jumper over his head and tugged his shirt out of his jeans before sitting. He slowly started working the buttons loose as Greg turned to face him, mimicking his movements. Edward cleared his throat and quirked an eyebrow at him.

John shrugged. "I'm anticipating it getting a little warm in here, is all."

Edward grinned and reached for Greg's shirt, pulling it up and off. Then he snaked his arms around to his front and undid his belt and zip, tugging his clothing down with practised ease. John bit his lip and squirmed in his seat before making a show of fanning himself.

"I was right. It's _damn_ hot." He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and winked at Greg.

Edward's eyes travelled the length of John's torso, skating over his lines and curves, finally coming to rest on the starburst scar on his left shoulder. He bent down to Greg's ear as his hands wandered indiscriminately. 

"I begin to see the appeal."

Greg turned his mouth to Edward's ear even as his body shuddered under his touch. "Oh, you've no idea. He has the most magnificent arse, E. Sometimes I think I've died and gone to Heaven. So pert, so firm, and yet it jiggles so nicely when I smack it. Fits in my hand perfectly, too."

Edward chuckled as he ran one hand around and down, cupping one of Greg's cheeks. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He drew back slightly and brought his hand down on Greg's arse with a little force. He watched John bite down on his lip again as Greg moaned. "So controlled. I'd love to see him lose it."

Greg shook his head. "You won't. I'm the only one who gets to see that."

Edward started to tickle his fingers along the cleft of Greg's arse, but John abruptly cleared his throat, drawing his attention. Edward glanced up as John curtly nodded toward the bedside table, and he turned to look. 

Ah. All of the necessary supplies had already been laid out, including gloves. "Understood, Captain darling." Greg stifled a chuckle, and John glared at the both of them before crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. Greg coughed a little self-consciously and then clambered on to the bed, watching from his knees as Edward hastily threw off his clothing and snapped a glove onto his right hand. He snatched the bottle of lube off the table and climbed up behind Greg, snugging right up to him.

Edward mouthed at the nape of his neck as he squeezed out the lube, waiting until he felt Greg's body soften under his mouth. He bit down gently, smiling as Greg moaned and let his head fall back against Edward's shoulder. He nudged his knees apart slightly with his own and ran slick fingers down his crack, finding his entrance and probing insistently. Greg's body put up very little resistance, giving easily even as he rolled his hips back into Edward's hand. They both huffed out a little breath as Edward's finger slid in smoothly. He wrapped his free arm around Greg's waist and started working him open, his mouth on Greg's neck, tonguing, kissing.

He started to move his free hand as he inserted the second finger, caressing around and over Greg's chest, stomach and thighs. Edward circled his movements around his cock, coming close to, but not quite touching it. Greg groaned as Edward laugh-growled again. "If it's that bad, you can touch yourself, you know."

Greg panted. "Not yet. Not until you're in me. Sweet baby Jesus, E. I'm ready."

" _Mm_. Are you?" Edward drew back and added a third finger, thrusting in fast and hard. Greg cried out even as John's breathing increased slightly from across the room. 

" _Yes!_ Oh God, fuck me."

"What was that?"

"Fuck me, Edward. For  _Christ's_ sake, you big git! _Fuck me!_ "

Edward licked at Greg's neck and bit down. "Hands and knees, darling." He shifted backward to discard the glove and reach for protection. Greg eagerly positioned himself as Edward rolled on the condom and slicked himself up. He tossed the bottle of lube on the bed within easy reach, just in case. Edward looked down at the gift that Greg was presenting him with and had to shake himself. Breathing deeply, he squeezed the root of his cock firmly before lining himself up and sliding in slowly. 

Greg took all of him smoothly, groaning loudly and pushing back against Edward's forward motion. Once he was sunk in balls-deep, he paused again to take a deep breath. Greg went down on his elbows and buried his face in the mattress with a quiet moan. Still, Edward waited, breathing evenly. Then Greg reached out to grasp the footboard with both hands, silently giving Edward the green light to move.       

So he did, starting with small motions, rocking first a quarter and then half of himself in and out. He began drawing back as far as he could before sliding back in all the way, still slow and steady. Greg was mumbling into the mattress, his hands clutching hard at the footboard, the muscles in his arms and thighs trembling with every slow thrust. He finally lifted his head when he couldn't take it any more.

" _Goddammit_ , Edward! I know you can fuck harder than this. _Give_ it to me, for fuck's sake!" He spied John sitting across the room and practically sobbed. "John, for the love of _God_. Make him fuck me harder. Faster. Oh Jesus fuck!"

John stood and crossed the room, crouching down so he was face-to-face with Greg. He reached out to run his fingers down his taut, trembling arms. "You agreed to this, Gregory. Unfortunately, the one with his cock buried in your arse is the one who is controlling the pace. I really can't make him do anything."

Edward groaned as John glanced up at him, unconsciously quickening and deepening his thrusts. John kept his eyes locked on Edward's face as he reached out to run his fingers through Greg's hair.

"John, please. Ah, Christ! _Please_. Let me touch you, suck you. _Anything_. Oh fucking _Jesus_ , please!"

"Now, you know that's against the rules, Gregory." John ran a hand down his bare chest and then lower, palming himself through his jeans. At this angle, he knew that Edward wouldn't be able to really see anything. It was more about teasing him to the point of losing himself. John smirked as Edward's eyes widened and his breath caught and he started thrusting wildly. Greg cried out in relief.

John licked his lips and continued to move his arm up and down, rubbing against his inner thigh. He fluttered his eyes and moaned as if in the throes of ecstasy, smiling as Greg cried out again. "Touch yourself, Gregory. I want to see your face when you come. I want to see how you look as another man comes inside you. _Do it_."

Greg reached for himself and starting stroking madly as Edward renewed his grip on his hips and started truly fucking him, jolting Greg's body hard with every stroke. The hand that was holding onto the footboard was wet with sweat, and it nearly slipped as Greg shifted slightly. John braced him with a hand on his shoulder and continued to move the hand that was out of sight, increasing his motions as if he were close himself.

"Sweet _fucking_ Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Good Christ, yes, _oh fuck yes_..."

"That's it, love. Nearly there, aren't you? Oh _Jesus_ , you're beautiful. So fucking _beautiful_ when you come."

Greg's eyes flew open wide and his body stiffened before breaking out into wild shudders. John swiftly abandoned the pretence of wanking, reaching up to grasp Greg's head in his hands, his slate-blue eyes focused entirely on his face. Greg groaned and let his head fall to the mattress as Edward grunted and strained behind him, the tremors of Greg's body having pulled his orgasm neatly out of him.

John ran his fingers through Greg's sweaty hair and kissed the top of his head. "So beautiful. My gorgeous silver DI." Greg groaned again as Edward pulled out and flopped onto his back on the bed, breathing shallowly. "You did well, Gregory. Very well."

Greg cracked open one eye and winked at John before rearranging his limbs, falling down on his side on the bed. He shifted closer to John, nuzzling his face into one of his hands. John smiled briefly before standing and leaning over to give him a proper kiss. He glanced over at Edward, who was still struggling to even out his breathing.

Edward looked him up and down and smirked. "Should've known you hadn't really pulled it out. Ah, the self-control of an Army man..."

John stroked down Greg's side idly. "Yes, well. Can't say that it'll last too much longer, so I suggest you get a move on. I would so  _hate_ to embarrass myself."

Edward blew out a breath and sat up slowly. "Well, that's a fine how-do-you-do. Shag the hell out of your boyfriend, just as you _asked_ , and I don't even get a kiss on the cheek or a 'job well done' or anything. Just get kicked out on my arse."

"As per the rules discussed this very evening. Have you forgotten already?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "May I at least make use of the facilities before I get shoved out into the cold?"

John nodded as he continued to draw lazy circles on Greg's skin. He watched as Edward gathered his shed clothing and cloistered himself away in the tiny closet of a bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed aside from his jacket. John stepped away from the foot of the bed and cocked his head toward the door.

"Allow me to show you out."

Edward snorted, but followed the shorter man obediently. He paused briefly to kiss Greg on the cheek, but did not linger unnecessarily. John held open the front door as Edward shrugged into his jacket. He looked down at John uncertainly, and sighed.

"This was - fun."

It was John's turn to snort. "Yeah, I could tell." Edward suddenly grinned, and John could only grin in return. He went up on his tip-toes and pulled Edward's face down to his. John laid a fat, wet kiss on his cheek with a laugh. "Well done, laddie."

Edward's eyes screwed up as he fought back his own laughter. He let it out as he scraped the side of his hand across his cheek. "Ick. Next week, then?"

John glanced back toward the bedroom. "Maybe. We'll let you know, yeah?"

"Okay, yeah." Edward held up a hand in farewell and then was out the door and down the stairs, whistling jauntily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone is curious - the first song is "A Little Priest" from Sweeney Todd, the Barber of Fleet Street. And the second is "Lie to Me", from Depeche Mode's album Some Great Reward. (One of my favourites...) :)
> 
> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's turn... :)

John shut the door and locked it behind him, turning around to lean against it briefly. Truth was, he had nearly popped off at the sight of Greg coming with another man's cock pounding into him. Why, he didn't know. He just knew that it was one of the hottest things he had yet to witness, and that he needed to take a moment or two to himself in order to calm down before walking back into that bedroom. Especially with Greg laid out so nicely, his arse already slick and open for him.

" _Jesus_. Jeeeezuss..." He went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water and sucked half of it down before refilling it. John watched the trickle of water running down the drain and splashed some over his face and chest, blinking against the chill. Without bothering to dry off, he turned off the tap and grabbed the glass of water before heading back into the bedroom.

Greg had shifted in the bed, his back to the headboard and the sheet draped over his lap. He smiled slowly as John peeked around the door, somewhat relieved to find him covered. He held out the glass of water and Greg took it with a sigh of pleasure.

_"Bless."_ He swallowed it down greedily, letting some dribble down his chin. John laughed even as he took the nearly empty glass back and set it on the bedside table. He moved to straddle Greg's lap, sucking the extra moisture off his face. He put their foreheads together, and the two men sat like that for a while, simply sharing breath and body heat.

Then Greg's hands travelled up and down John's back lightly, raising gooseflesh in their wake. "Was that good? I mean - you're okay with what happened and all?"

"More than just okay. Jesus, _Greg_ , that was... I just don't even... _Unf_." John pressed his mouth to Greg's, trying to convey his feelings without words. Greg hummed low in his chest and positively melted under the heat of John's tongue.

_"John..."_ Greg dipped his fingers into the hollow of John's tailbone, trying to wedge his hand into his pants. "These should be off, don't you think?" He palmed John's crotch. "Get naked and get under this sheet with me, c'mon."

John chuckled and slid off of Greg's lap awkwardly, hampered by jeans that had suddenly become a bit too snug. Greg's dark eyes glinted as John's cock bounced free from its restriction and he reached out to stroke it. John moaned as Greg's thumb flicked over the head, down the slit.

"So smooth. So hard." John shivered as Greg's voice deepened with lust. "And that curve, Jesus, so right. You have the _perfect_ cock, Captain Watson."

John smacked his hand away so he could climb back into bed. "I don't know about that, Gregory. I'm of the opinion that you happen to have the most gorgeous prick in this room." He pulled the sheet down slowly, exposing his lover in all his hardening glory. John ran his fingers up Greg's inner thigh and tickled his bollocks before wrapping his hand around him, smiling at Greg's breathy sigh.

"Tell me how you want me, John. On my hands and knees like Edward did?"

"No." John kneeled in between Greg's thighs. "Like this. So I can see you. Scoot down and pass us a pillow." Greg grinned that wildly brilliant grin of his, and John's breath caught briefly. "You really are ridiculously gorgeous, you know that?"

"No, I don't. I never get tired of hearing you say it, though. One of these days, I may even believe you."  
   
John sighed exasperatedly as Greg tilted his hips, giving him the room to slip the pillow underneath. "What have I told you, Gregory? Time and time again? Never doubt yourself. Never doubt _me_. I - " He crouched suddenly, laying his forehead on Greg's stomach, nosing around his bellybutton tenderly. John ran his hands up Greg's sides, huffing out a long breath along his sternum as he moved up. He laid a soft kiss on Greg's lips and looked him in the eye. "I - care - for you a great deal. And it - well, it hurts when you don't believe me. So if you care for me at all, then you'll stop hurting me, won't you?"  
   
Greg blinked up at John, looming quietly over him. "You little sap."  
   
 _"Gregory."_  
   
He cleared his throat, feeling the furious blush heating his cheeks and chest. "I can try, Captain, my Captain. Right now, that's all I can offer." Greg lifted a hand to trace the lines of John's face. "You're fighting four decades of self-doubt, you know. Bit of an uphill battle, I'm afraid."  
   
John leaned into his hand and smiled gently. "I'll fight for you for as long as you need me to." He dropped his body weight down on the man beneath him and writhed as he kissed him, plundering Greg's mouth with his tongue and igniting a flash fire in his belly.  
   
Greg groaned loudly and wrapped his arms and legs around John, holding on tight. But not so tightly that John couldn't move, as the slow drag of his perfect cock against his was just _too_ delicious. "Oh God..." John grunted wordlessly and flexed his arse under Greg's grip, gnawing delicately on neck and collarbone. "John, good Lord, _please_."  
   
"Hm?"  
   
"As wonderful as this is, I really, really, um - oh sweet _Christ_... Uh, I really want you inside me. Please. _Jesus_. Pleaseplease _please_."  
   
John chuckled even as he started to reach for the packet of condoms that was still on display on the bedside table. "Just a few minutes ago, you were begging for Edward's prick, and now you're begging for mine. You're nothing but a big 'ol cock-slut, aren't you, Gregory?"  
   
Greg's eyes widened slightly in shock, but then he grinned brightly. "Maybe. Or maybe he didn't really satisfy me, Captain Watson. Maybe I need you to do the job _properly_."  
   
John grinned sharply in return as his slate-blue eyes glinted. "Now, that's what I like to hear."  
   
Greg licked his lips in anticipation as John rolled on a condom and slicked himself up. He wriggled down slightly and lifted his hips as John lined himself up, biting his lower lip as he slid in all the way. They both groaned and threw their heads back, John pressing in deep and Greg clenching down hard.   
   
" _God_ , yes. So perfect."  
   
"So tight, so hot. _Jesus_." John closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, concentrating on nothing but the feeling of Greg surrounding him, his heat, the pulse of his body throbbing against his prick, buried to the hilt. "Fuck, _yes_."  
   
"Yes, yes." Greg grunted and rolled his hips. " _Move_ , you little bastard."  
   
"So impatient." John grinned and started to move in long, sure strokes. Greg's gorgeous dark eyes blinked rapidly and he moaned low. John watched his face intently, drinking in every minute twitch of muscle and flutter of eyelid. He found himself revisiting his thoughts from the week before, when they had been at the club. Oh, yes, John was undoubtedly in love. He watched the man writhing slowly underneath him, listening to the creaking of his muscles and the soft sighs of his breath as John pumped into him steadily.   
   
He should have acknowledged it the first time that Greg had called him 'little'. He couldn't even remember the entirety of the taunt, he just remembered the gentle teasing tone, the soft look in Greg's eyes, and then the quite literal sensation of falling. He remembered reaching out at that moment, grasping against something, anything for support. Greg's eyes had quickly gone from soft to concerned, his hand reaching out to pull John in close. Yes, John had fallen, and it was Greg who had caught him.

All his life, John had fought against small _tiny_ little, but when Greg said it, he only laughed. John laughed because he knew that even as Greg said 'little', he knew John to be anything but. Greg thought him sturdy, dependable; a solid support to lean on in his somewhat unsteady life, an anchor to cling to while slowly rocking his way to oblivion.

Especially at moments like this, face-to-face, the curve of John's equally solid and dependable cock driving in deeper and deeper, hitting that particular spot on every single stroke. Sometimes it seemed as though John was made to fit into Greg in just this way, and he wanted to be sure that Greg never forgot that. Not that John really thought he would - the man was really quite romantic about silly things like that.  
   
Greg moaned, bringing John back from inside his head. He wrapped his legs around his waist as John fell forward slightly, bracing his arms on the mattress. Those legs, Jesus. John reached back and ran a hand down a solid thigh, feeling the muscles flex as Greg rolled his hips against him. He ran that same hand around and up, coming oh-so-close to Greg's cock, bypassing it neatly and trailing up his belly and chest, coming to rest on his face.  
   
Greg's eyes flashed open as John cupped his cheek, running his thumb over his lower lip. His tongue flickered out to lick at it, and John smiled. Greg gasped and snapped his hips, but John just shook his head, stilling his steady rocking. " _Slow_ , Gregory. I want to savour you."  
   
"God, _oh God_." Greg tilted his head back as John started to move again, sliding the perfect curve of his cock over his prostate time and time again.  
   
John increased the pressure of his hand, bringing Greg's face back into view. "Eyes front, Gregory."  
   
" _Captain_... I don't think - I, oh God." Greg blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to focus on John's face, but he was swiftly falling to pieces. John smirked even as he realised it was a lost cause. He went down on his elbows, sliding his hands under Greg's shoulders and started fucking him in earnest, brutally snapping his hips deep as he pulled down on Greg's shoulders.  
   
"Fuck, oh _fuck_." John felt one swift squeeze on his arsecheeks, but then Greg's hands were gone, pulling back on his own knees, opening himself up even more for a quite thorough fucking. "John, Jesus _fuck_ , yes oh yes..."  
   
"Tell me, Gregory." John's words were panted out in short sharp gasps.  
   
Greg nearly sobbed. " _You_ , John. Only you can take me apart like this. Jesus fuck, only your cock. My God, your _perfect_ fucking cock hitting me there every single fucking time... Oh, fuckfuck yes, _John_ , oh sweet _Christ_. Just a little more, God, let me see you come, John. I want to see it I want to feel it, oh Jesus, there, yes, there _there_ there. God, yes _YES_!"  
   
John felt Greg's body shudder and shiver under him, his arse bearing down hard on his cock, but he was too lost in his own release to relish the look of utter surrender on Greg's face. He collapsed on top of him with a loud groan.  
   
They panted together, Greg running one hand through his silver hair and the other down John's back. He clenched down on John's softening prick, just to hear the groan it elicited. John sat up slightly and shook his head down at him. "Bastard." He pulled out and climbed out of bed on shaky legs, heading into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wipe down.  
   
Greg had expected him to come back with a flannel, but John instead reached for his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. "You. Shower." Greg tried to flop backwards dramatically, but John braced his legs and kept firm hold of his hands. _"Now."_  
   
"Ugh. _Why_?"  
   
"Don't you whine at me, Gregory. I just - well. I'd like you to smell like you, and not him, that's all."  
   
Greg blinked at him and squeezed his hands gently. "Yes, Captain." John suppressed a grin as Greg stood and wobbled almost imperceptibly. " _Fuck_. I am definitely too old to be getting buggered by two different men in the same evening." He held a hand to his lower back and made a show of limping into the bathroom.  
   
"Drama queen." Greg threw him a saucy wink over his shoulder before closing the bathroom door. John waited until he heard the shower running and then started making his preparations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Greg share some fluffy feelings... And have more hot sex, because why the hell not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do comment... 
> 
> If you have questions, or wish to see something resolved, I'd very much like to know.
> 
> Thank you!

When Greg came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and a wicked grin, it was to a room filled with candlelight. John was sitting up in the bed, attempting to look nonchalant as he read a book and sipped from a glass of scotch. Greg propped himself up against the doorway and snorted.  
   
"I was wrong. You're not a little sap, you're an _enormous_ sap."  
   
John looked over at him with a small frown. "Whatever do you mean?"  
   
"What is all this nonsense?"  
   
John looked around with a soft smile. "Romance, Gregory. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you."  
   
"Oh, John. You think I don't know?" Greg shed his towel and slid into the bed at his side. He leant in for a soft kiss.  
   
"It doesn't hurt to be reminded every once in a while... You do so much for me, Greg. And half the time I'm being whisked away by the Great Consulting Prat, and it's like - it's like I'm just waiting for the hammer to drop, y'know?"  
   
"No, I don't know. That's not going to happen, John. I lo - _ahem_ \- care for you and nothing that Sherlock can do will ever change that. We may not spend as much time together as I'd like, but that just makes the time we do have all that more special." Greg paused. "It's not like I'm the only one giving in this relationship. You take care of me better than you realise. My tiny army doctor..."  
   
John's eyes narrowed even as he grinned. "Don't start that bullshit, now. Or I just might have to take you down."  
   
Greg snorted. "I'd _let_ you."  
   
John's brow quirked. "Are you saying that you wouldn't put up a proper fight?"   
   
"How could I? You look at me a certain way, call me Gregory with that damned steely voice, and I'm done for. There's nothing at all fair in the way that you fight, John."  
   
John laughed and reached up to run his fingers through Greg's hair before pushing him down into the pillows. He straddled his waist and ran his fingers from chest to belly. "What this light is doing to you... Jesus, Greg, you fucking _shine_. It's brilliant."  
   
Greg shivered slightly before chuckling. "I was going to say something very similar, only you're _glowing_." He reached up, running his fingers in much the same pattern that John was. "Your hair, your skin. You're gorgeous." Greg let his eyes travel around the room briefly, taking in the numerous candles on every flat surface. "Interesting to be on the receiving end of this sort of attention for once." He cocked his head. "Didn't think you had it in you, Captain Watson."  
   
"Oh, I'm all about this kind of shit, Gregory. Usually, though - I mean, with past relationships, it was because I was hoping for a certain kind of reaction..."  
   
Greg grinned. "You manipulative bastard. Pulling out the candles and flowers for a guaranteed shag? How very - male - of you."  
   
John grinned back and reached out to tweak a nipple. "Yeah. Let's just say that I was results-oriented, shall we?" His face sobered slightly. "But with you - well. I'm already guaranteed a shag, aren't I?" Greg blushed. "So - this is, um. Different. I really do just want you to know how much I - care."  
   
"John..." Greg's blush deepened as he let his fingers trip lightly down John's sternum and belly and then lower. " _Hm_. You're not usually ready again so quickly..."  
   
John sighed as Greg wrapped his fingers around his cock. "I keep thinking of you and Edward, and Jesus... I don't know why, but fuck, it turns me on, Greg. I'm positively  _aching_ for you."  
   
Greg grinned. "Don't think I can take another pounding, darling."  
   
John rolled his hips. "Wimp." He smiled lasciviously before taking Greg's hand from his cock and guiding it toward his arse. "Anyway, that's really not what I had in mind." Greg ran his hand down the cleft of John's arse and his grin widened. "I wanted to be ready for you."  
   
"Mm..." Greg grasped hold of the base of the toy and pressed it in deeper, humming again as John moaned and writhed atop him. He went up on his knees a bit and leant forward as Greg started to slowly work the toy in and out. "You and your accessories, John, I swear to _God_..."  
   
John gasped. "Problem?"  
   
"Fuck, _no_." Greg grinned wickedly as John panted above him. "Maybe next time we have Edward over we should plant one of these lovelies in your arse first. See how long you can hold out, watching me get plowed, imagining that it's my cock stuffed up your bum instead..." Greg gave the toy a vicious little twist and increased his tempo, pumping it into John harder and faster. "How long do you think you'd be able to wait? I bet as soon as Edward pulled out of me, you'd be fit to burst. Wouldn't even be able to get him out the door before you had me on my knees..."  
   
"Gre - stop." John gasped again and suddenly pushed away from Greg's hand. "You fucking _bastard_." He slumped off to the side and panted quietly. "This is not how I imagined this evening progressing." John cocked his head and studied Greg, who was looking inordinately pleased with himself. "How do you do that? You make me forget myself, Gregory."  
   
"Oh, I don't know about that. Sometimes, I think I help you remember." John blinked. "There's a lot to be said for self-control, Captain. But it's okay to let go, too. Just go with the flow and all that." Greg propped himself up on his elbows and winked. "But now I'm curious. What was it that you were imagining?"  
   
"I was going to ride you, Gregory. I wanted to lay you back and slide down on that gorgeous thick cock and ride you, nice and slow. Watch you shine and sweat and groan underneath me in this damnable heavenly light. Wanted to watch your face as you come deep inside..."  
   
Greg swallowed and turned toward the bedside table, reaching out for a condom. "Let it not be said that Gregory Lestrade is one to deny his lover what he so desperately wants." He opened the packet and rolled it on before laying back again. "Do what you will, you gorgeous fiend."  
   
John laughed brightly, deep rolling guffaws that soon had him curled up on his side. "Oh, I will. I just - need a moment."  
   
Greg folded his hands on his chest and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "I can wait." He turned his head and winked. "I can wait just as long as you need me to, John."  
   
John growled low. "You smarmy bastard." Greg smiled and reached out a hand, trailing his fingers over John's jawline and neck. Another throaty growl, and Greg shivered. "How did he do it?"  
   
"He who? Do what?" Greg's eyes followed his fingers, tracing lazy circles down to John's chest.  
   
"Edward. How could he let you go?" Greg's fingers stopped, and he raised his eyes to John's. "The two of you together - _Jesus_."  
   
Greg's smile faded slightly. "There were mistakes on both sides, John. It was a rough time in my life, what with the divorce and dealing with Sherlock... I think we did the best we could, considering. In the end, we just couldn't make a go of it. It was - mutual." John knew that there was more to it, but suddenly realised that he didn't care. Whatever was in Greg's past, it didn't matter. Unless it somehow pertained to their potential future, and John trusted him enough to reveal those issues if necessary.  
   
He dropped his gaze briefly. "I'm sorry for prying, Greg."  
   
"Stop. You aren't prying. You're trying to understand. You see it, the way he and I fit together - physically. You can't see where we didn't fit. It takes more than hot sex to make a life with someone." Greg smiled again, running his thumb over John's lips. "It takes understanding. Caring." He threw his glance around the room again and leaned in, whispering. " _Romance_."  
   
John blushed and giggled. "I've actually missed this. Thought I wouldn't get a chance to do it anymore. Blokes are usually a bit more straightforward, y'know?"  
   
"Good thing you got with a soppy ol' thing, yeah?"  
   
"Oh, yeah." John moved in closer, running one hand down Greg's body as he ducked down in for a smouldering kiss. Greg groaned into his mouth and wrapped one strong arm around John's waist, pulling him atop him. John wriggled out of his grip. "Wait - just... Two seconds..."  
   
Greg grinned and reached for the lube as John dashed off to the bathroom, no doubt to divest himself of the obstruction lodged in his arse. He came back moments later, wasting no breath on words as he climbed back on top of Greg. He waited impatiently for Greg to finish slicking himself up, and then knocked his hand out of the way. Once John was situated and had Greg in hand, holding him steady as he sank down, all of his apparent impatience seemed to vanish.  
   
His movements were nothing but controlled as he let his body weight carry him down, sinking lower and lower by increments as he impaled himself on Greg's thick cock. Greg heaved out one solid breath as John settled himself, rocking back and forth slightly. "Jesus, _John_."

" _Mm_." John closed his eyes and languidly tilted his head back, biting at his lower lip. He rocked again. "Oh, _God_ , Greg. I do so adore the way you fill me up."

Greg reached out to run his hands up John's thighs. "Oh-ho! So the truth comes out. You're only with me because of my cock." He let out a melodramatic sob. "I'm just being used for my body!"

John tilted his head and stared down at the man beneath him with a little bemused smile. He lifted himself slightly and sank back down, rolling his hips. "Yeah, you just might have something there. Because it's not like you're caring, or funny, or devastatingly _handsome_ or anything like that. Nope, your cock is the only useful bit. Oh, and your tongue. That's come in handy on occasion..."

Greg let the tongue in question wriggle out over his lips as John started to rock his hips steadily. He groaned and reached out to grasp at John's waist, but his hands were batted away. Greg growled and braced his feet on the bed, driving his hips up with a sharp snap.

John immediately stopped moving. "No, Gregory. You're just to lie back and take what I give you. Nothing more."

"John, for _Christ's sake_!"

" _No_." Greg clenched his fists in frustration and brought them up to his face, sighing as John started to move again, in the same slow steady rocking. A light touch as he leaned forward slightly, pulling Greg's arms away from his face. "I want to see you, Gregory. Here." John twined their fingers together, encouraging Greg to brace his elbows on the mattress. He lifted himself up using Greg's arms as a support, and increased his pace just a tiny bit. "Better?"

Greg nodded, moaning quietly as he tried to keep his body still. He found himself suddenly focused on John's small but strong fingers entwined with his own broad digits. He couldn't recall if they had ever held hands like this before, during the act. They'd held and caressed just about every part of each other during sex, but they'd never held hands. For some odd reason, Greg felt the bond between them growing, and it was entirely centred on that seemingly chaste point of contact. Their bloody _fingers_ , not the more obvious connection of cock to arse.

John moaned, snapping Greg's attention back to his face, glowing from the combination of candlelight and the distinct pink flush of arousal. He started to lift himself a bit higher, coming down with more force. Still moving slower than Greg would like, but much deeper, which John apparently liked very much. Greg grinned as another moan slipped from John's mouth and he attempted a little matching thrust of his own. Nothing too sudden or jarring, just rising up to meet John as he came back down, helping him to reach the depth he seemed to be seeking.

John's eyes opened languidly, and he let a little smile of approval ghost over his lips. Greg grunted as a distinct wave of heat washed over him, originating in his bollocks and moving upward. John sighed as Greg lifted his hips to meet him again. "Yes, Greg. Just like that." He tightened his fingers. "Slow. _Deep_. Oh God, _yes_."

Greg watched John as he moved above him, drank in every detail, every flutter of eye and flex of muscle, thigh and stomach and arm, and _Christ_ , the way the cords in his neck stood out as he rolled his head back in bliss... This wondrous creature, taking what he needed, but always giving in return, his tiny golden sex god, his John.

Every motion that John made built on the previous, waves of pleasure cresting but never quite peaking, there just there, but more, always more. Greg gasped as John increased his pace again, beginning to lean backward slightly as he rode him, searching for more pressure on that spot. Greg moaned as John released his hands and nodded down at him curtly.

Greg didn't hesitate to wrap his hands around John's hips, positioning him just so as he tilted his own groin for a sharper angle. John gasped as Greg drove against his prostate firmly. "God, yes. Jesus, _Greg_." Another stroke, long and sure and deep, another loud moan from his lover.

Greg grinned. "Should I try to make you come from this alone? Or do you want me to touch you?"

John moaned again. "No. I want you to come first, I want to feel you shake and shudder." With that, he changed his angle again, leaning forward to take the pressure off of his prostate. He began to really ride Greg, hips snapping and arse clenching, bouncing up and down in a fast and furious rhythm.

Greg threw his head back with a shout. " _Fuck_! John, you little _shit_!" He could only hold on as John bucked against him, teeth set in a ferocious grin as he watched Greg fall to pieces beneath him. Greg came hard with another shout, his body contorting in around John, chin pulled to his chest and muscles locked rigidly.

John stopping bouncing, eyes glinting with delight at Greg's intense expression. They panted together briefly, and then John rolled his hips. With a sudden motion, Greg flipped them over. With nothing but a quiet growl, he withdrew from John and slid down his body. Two fingers were swiftly inserted, causing John to cry out, and then Greg's hot mouth was on him, enveloping his cock.

John's back arched, and Greg used the opportunity to slide his free arm under his waist, pulling him in tight. John wrapped his legs around Greg's torso and fisted both hands in his hair and just held on as Greg sucked hard and deep, circling his fingers over John's prostate. Then he pressed down hard, and John's quiet moans erupted into a long wail as he spent into Greg's mouth. Greg sucked it all down greedily and then simply kept John's cock in his mouth, humming quietly.

John giggled. "It's not a pacifier."

Greg hummed again and then let John slide out of his mouth with a wet slurp. "Dunno what to say. Soft, hard - you always feel so right against my tongue."

" _Mm_." Greg shifted slightly, sliding his arm out from under John, nestling his head on his belly. John idly played with Greg's silver hair, still marvelling at the way it shone in the candlelight.

Greg sighed with delight, nuzzling against John's skin and arching into his touch. " _Jesus_ , John. You are - amazing. I'm so glad you moved in with Sherlock."

"Mm. Wait - what?"

"We wouldn't have met, otherwise."

"No, I don't suppose we would have." John hummed again as Greg's fingers trailed down his thigh.

Greg sighed. "I - I can't imagine life without you now. You've made things so much better, John. I - I just - well." Greg cleared his throat. "I just wanted you to know, that's all."

John's grip in Greg's hair tightened slightly and he tugged upward. " _C'mere_ , you." Greg grinned and scooted upward until John was able to capture his face in both hands. The kiss was deep and thorough, but also sweet and tender, full of such promise that both men found themselves feeling a bit raw. John leaned his forehead into Greg's and breathed out a quiet sigh. "Thank you."

Greg hummed and nodded slightly. "And thank you for the - appreciation." They clung to each other and giggled until they ran out of breath.

John shifted slightly. "Know what I think?"

"Hm?"

"I think we should clean up and blow out these candles before we pass out."

Greg grumbled and reached out to run his fingers over John's chest. "But they make you look so pretty..."

John smiled softly. "You too. But we don't want the flat burning down, do we?"

"Oh, I guess not. All my stuff's here." Greg groaned as John pushed him away gently. John poked him in the belly as he slid off the bed, eliciting a quiet giggle. Greg headed into the bathroom to wipe down and clean his teeth, stopping short at the sight of a rather large and very black dildo in the sink. Shaking his head, Greg went about his business before heading back into the bedroom and back into bed.

John had blown out almost all the candles, leaving just a couple of tea lights on either bedside table. He gave Greg a swift kiss as he went to take his turn in the toilet. Greg settled back into the pillows, grinning at John's quiet exclamation. "Shit." John's head popped around the doorway, a bashful grin on his face. "Sorry about that, sweetheart."

Greg flapped a hand at him. "It's all right, I know you were in a bit of a hurry. It was just a bit surprising to see how big it was, that's all."

John frowned slightly. "No bigger than you. A bit smaller, in fact." He ducked back into the toilet, threatening to break out into hearty laughter at the stunned expression on Greg's face. The laughter couldn't be held back as he came back out to find Greg holding up the sheet and studying his lower region intently.

Greg looked up and blushed. "There's no _way_..."

John snuggled up next to him and threw an arm around his waist, nestling his head on Greg's shoulder. "Next time, we'll do a side-by-side comparison. You'll see." He tilted his head and kissed Greg on the side of his jaw. "Now go to sleep, Gregory."

Greg chuckled and turned into John, holding him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Yes sir, Captain Watson sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward makes a pest of himself...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a wee one before their next session with Edward. Think I'll have it at the club this time...
> 
> :)
> 
> *edit*
> 
> Just in case anyone is reading through this again and may be a bit confused - yes, some of the wording has been changed. When I originally wrote this bit, my tablet burped and lost part of it, and I just recently found it again, so I went through and melded some of the original text (which I was much happier with), with some of the recreated text. 
> 
> I just didn't want anyone thinking that they were cuckoo... :)

It took Edward all of four days to start calling. Greg ignored his phone the first two times it rang, all too aware of the reason behind the calls. He sighed heavily at Edward's third attempt, but since he was just at his desk eating lunch, he picked up.

"Edward. To what do I owe the pleasure? As if I don't already know..."

"Oh, darling. No need to take that tone with me. I just wanted to tell you how much fun I had the other night."

"And to find out when it's going to happen again."

"Jesus, Greg. You felt so good around me. Can you really blame me for wanting more?"

"Not really, no. But it isn't up to you, Edward. We told you that. John said we would call you, not the other way round."

"Yes, of course. So, Friday, then?"

Greg huffed out sceptical laughter. "We haven't even discussed it, E. Highly doubtful, though. I don't think I could _take_ it."

"It was a - strenuous - weekend, then?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"Mm... Physically? Or emotionally?"

"Edward..."

"Oh, c'mon... I'm positively dying of curiosity, darling."

"I really don't think you want to hear it. Look, Edward. I know that you're hoping for a particular outcome here, but it isn't going to happen. Stop being stubborn, and listen to me for once, okay? If there's one thing that this past weekend has shown me, it's that nothing is going to get between me and John Watson. Not Sherlock, and certainly not you. Clear?"

Greg fiddled with a pen as he listened to Edward's sharp intake of breath. "You love him."

"Yeah. Yes, I do."

"You haven't told him, have you?"

"Edward..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm a nosy sonovabitch." Greg grinned in spite of himself as Edward whined nasally. "Darling, please.... Gossip with me. I'm frightfully bored and I'm really terribly interested. Despite everything, I really do just want you to be happy. Talk to me, please..."

"God, you can be such a bloody queen sometimes!"

"Aw, you love it."

Greg huffed out a quiet laugh. "Fine. No, I haven't told him. You know me, Edward. I tend to jump into these things. So I want to be sure. I want him to be sure."

"What makes you think that he isn't sure?"

"Did - did he say something to you?"

"John? Talk to _me_? God no. It's written all over him, darling. I don't know how you're not seeing it. The way he looks at you, Jesus. Your little soldier is quite mad for you."

Greg cleared his throat awkwardly as his heart lurched in his chest. "Um. H-how does he look at me?" He cursed silently as he heard the tremble in his voice.

Edward laughed softly. "Like he's a man dying of hunger and you're a big fat juicy steak, that's how. He was practically breathing you in like air, Greg. Oh, he loves you right enough."

Greg let out a breath that he hadn't even been aware that he was holding in. "Well, maybe it's obvious to you, but until he actually says it to me..."

"Oh, of course. No good comes of presuming such things."

Greg sighed heavily. "As we both know."

"I do think you'd be quite safe telling him, darling."

"I'm just not ready, E. I do appreciate your - um - advice. I think."  
  
"Oh, you're welcome. You can return the favour by detailing exactly what happened after I was so rudely shoved out into the cold."

"E, I really don't think..."

"Oh darling, please. I may be a jealous little bitch, but that doesn't mean I'm going to chuck a wobbly on you. I'm simply dying to know what kind of effect I had on the little bugger."

"Oi, you watch it. That's my little bugger you're talking about."

"Greg, please..."

"Fine. Let's just say that the whole thing turned him on tremendously and he decided to mark his territory quite thoroughly, all right? How's that?"

Edward huffed impatiently. "Surprisingly short on, y'know - _detail_ , darling."

"What do you want to know, E? That his cock has the most perfect curve I've ever seen? That when he has me on my back and he slides in and starts fucking me in that maddeningly deep, slow way of his, that goddamn perfect cock hits that spot every fucking time and Jesus it just about _kills_ me it feels so good. When he has me like that, I always come without him even touching my cock. Always. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Oh, yeah, that's more like it." Edward cleared his throat. "Nice curve, hm?"

"Absolutely fucking perfect, E. Like he was _made_ for me."

"You always were a romantic idiot, Greg." A slight pause, and Greg grinned as he could almost hear the wheels turning in Edward's head. "I don't suppose...you have a photo?"

Greg snorted. "Mine, Edward. I'm not going to send you a photo of my boyfriend's package, as marvellous and wondrous as it is. It is mine and I am not sharing."

"Fine, you selfish bastard. What then?"

"Then he made me shower because he didn't want me to smell like you..."

"Oh, what a sweetheart."

"And when I came out of the shower, he had covered nearly all the flat surfaces in my stupid little bedroom with candles."

"He - what?"

"Candlelight _everywhere_. God, he looked like a golden idol in that light. Fucking spectacular."

"Jesus. You found yourself another romantic idiot. Well done, darling. And yet neither of you seems able to admit your feelings."

Greg chuckled ruefully. "I guess that's where the 'idiot' part really comes into play, yeah?"

"You'll figure it out." For a moment, Edward's voice was soft, a little sad and lost.

"E?"

"No, darling, don't. Just tell me what happened next."

"If you're sure."

"Of course I am, don't be silly."

"Well, the sly little bastard had stuffed a toy up his bum while I was in the shower so he'd be ready for me."

"Ooh, naughty."

"Yeah. Took pity on my old bones too, laid me down so he could ride me."

"Mm. I always loved it when you would climb on top, darling."

Greg ignored Edward's off-hand comment and continued with his narration. "And after he rode me so hard that I quite literally saw stars, I flipped his fine arse over and sucked him to completion. Jesus, the _taste_ of him, Edward... I can't even tell you..." There was a soft sound from the man on the other end of the phone, whether a gasp or a sigh, Greg couldn't tell. "D'you want to hear more?"  
   
"Yes." Edward's voice was low.  
   
"Are you sure?"  
   
"Greg, please."  
   
"We fell asleep after that. Slept like the dead, until he woke me up with a frankly fan- _fucking_ -tastic blowjob. After he got me off, he crawled up my body and fucked my mouth until he came. Then, despite our rather full bellies..." Another quiet noise, this one quite clearly a sound of desire, a low moan deep in Edward's chest. Greg cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. We went out to breakfast and attempted to turn each other on by fellating our sausages." Edward snorted. "So what? We were both a bit giddy by then. And then we came back to mine where we watched my stupid sci-fi shows."  
   
"I never said they were stupid, Greg."  
   
"You may as well have."  
   
A heavy sigh. "Which one did you watch?"  
   
"Torchwood."  
   
"Ah. Now, that one I never had an issue with watching."  
   
"Mm. Quite a bit of eye-candy, I agree. Although I always thought it odd that you fixated on Owen, of all people."  
   
"The coffee boy was just too pretty, darling. And Jack was too smug." Edward chuckled at Greg's breathy sigh. "So how long into watching it before you and John were messing about again?"  
   
Greg laughed outright. "Considering that John kept whispering about fantasising about Jack and Ianto double-teaming me while he watched? Yeah, not long at all."  
   
There was a little bit of a stunned silence. "I wouldn't expect him to be so dirty-minded..."  
   
"John is a lot of things that you wouldn't expect, Edward. That's why I like him so much."  
   
"How?"  
   
"Hm?"  
   
"How did you get each other off that time?"  
   
"Jesus, Edward. _Why_ do you want to know all this?"  
   
"I just do."  
   
"You're gonna wank as soon as we hang up, aren't you?"  
   
" _Pfft_. How do you know I'm not wanking now?"  
   
"Because you're still capable of intelligible speech, that's why."  
   
"Tell me, Greg. Please."  
   
"He straddled me and we pulled each other off, that's how. Made rather a mess of ourselves. Lounged about for the rest of the day after we cleaned up and then he fucked me into oblivion once more before we passed out for the night. He had to go back to his the next day, but we managed to get in one more blowjob beforehand."  
   
" _Jesus_."  
   
"Yeah. I'm still sore. So you see why I said I didn't think I'd be able to handle it again so soon, right? You'll be lucky if you get to see me again in two weeks' time, E. I would suggest not _pushing_ that luck."  
   
Edward sighed heavily. "Yes, darling. I'll wait for your call. I'm assuming that you'll tell John about this?"  
   
"Yeah, I'll tell him that you called. I'll do you a favour, though, and not tell him the content of the call, or how pushy you were. How's that?"  
   
"You're so considerate, Greg." Edward's voice was dry.  
   
"I do my best."  
   
A quiet snort. "Goodbye, darling. Until next time..."  
   
"Mm." Greg sat back up in his chair as he hung up his phone, only to immediately compose a text to John.  
   
 _'Guess who I just talked to...'_  
   
Greg didn't have to wait long, seeing as how this was when John usually took his lunch as well. _'As if I really have to guess...'_  
   
 _'Wanted to know when we'd see him again.'_  
  
 _'Right. And?'_  
  
 _'?'_  
  
 _'He wanted to know if he fucked us up, right?'_  
  
 _'Erm...'_  
  
 _'Did you tell him that we shagged the stuffing out of each other every opportunity we got?'_  
  
 _'Pretty much, yeah.'_  
  
 _'Good lad.'_  
  
 _'Can't wait to see you tonight...'_  
  
 _' ;-p '_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another meeting with Edward is planned, and John gets acquainted with another of Greg's friends...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have outdone myself a bit with the brogue in this chapter, but Geoff is very, very Scots, so I wanted to illustrate that as best I could. If any of it doesn't make sense, please do let me know, and I will post a translation of sorts. 
> 
> Smut to follow in the next chapter... (Yay!)
> 
> As always, feedback and comments are greatly appreciated...
> 
> Thank you all for being such lovely people! 
> 
> *mwah*
> 
> (Translations for Geoff's dialogue available [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3859345/chapters/8618959))

John finally acquiesced to seeing Edward again three weeks later. Greg suspected that he had really wanted to meet up the weekend before, but had held out an extra week as a subtle punishment to Edward for his unauthorised phone call after the first time. Greg sent off the text with fingers that were trembling with excitement.  
   
_'Saturday, at the club. We'll be there around 9 or so.'_  
   
Edward responded almost immediately. _'I'll be there. With bells on and all.'_  
   
Greg snorted even as John eyed his shaking fingers with interest.  
   
"Nervous, Gregory? Or excited?"  
   
"Bit of both, Captain. He still affects me in stupid hormone-driven ways, y'know? I'm more excited about the aftermath, really."  
   
John chuckled. "We did rather fuck away the entire weekend, didn't we?" Greg nodded eagerly and John laughed again. "You're such a dog, Gregory Lestrade. A great big beast of a horndog with nothing but sex on the mind. At least you're a bit of a cuddly horndog, so I can get some rest occasionally."  
   
Greg pouted melodramatically. "I don't have _nothing_ but sex on my mind, Captain. I sometimes have food on the mind as well. And speaking of..."  
   
John sighed. "The lasagna is almost done. Maybe fifteen minutes or so."  
   
Greg grinned and waggled his eyebrows before sliding onto his knees in front of John. "That gives us about just enough time..."  
   
John rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but moan as Greg started to work his belt loose. "Nothing but an animal..."  
    

                   **********          **********          **********          **********          **********          **********          **********  
    
John frowned as they entered the club. It was infinitely more crowded than the time they had been there before, and much louder as a result. He fought the urge to lash out with knees and elbows as Greg pulled him through the mass of people queueing up at the bar. Once they had made it to the far side, where there was a little more space, Greg took him by the shoulders and looked at his face, a little crinkle of worry on his brow.  
   
"Are you all right, love? Jesus, the people - this may have been a bad idea. I'd forgotten about the Saturday crowd. D'ya want to leave? We can leave..."  
   
John smiled up at him crookedly and took him by the elbow. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'm _fine_ , Greg. Really. It is a bit - more - than I'm used to, but I'm not going to freak out or anything. I want this to happen just as much as you do."  
   
"If you're sure. If it gets to be too much, you'll tell me, right?"  
   
John went up on his tip-toes to kiss him quite thoroughly. "I will. You're such a sweetheart, you know that? How is it that you weren't snatched up years ago?"  
   
Greg grinned and shrugged at him. "Places like this - these blokes aren't looking for sweeties. They're just looking for a quick and dirty fuck."  
   
John nibbled on Greg's earlobe. "Well, I don't know about quick, but you are more than capable of fucking pretty damn dirty. So they've all missed out in one way or another..."  
   
Greg shivered and clutched John close, swaying slightly to the beat of the music blaring overhead. "Christ, John. Are you trying to get me off before Edward even gets his chance?"  
   
John's only response was a low chuckle as he slipped his arms around Greg's waist and tucked his head into the side of his neck, letting the motion of Greg's hips carry him along. Greg hummed, a pleased little grin on his face. He wasn't sure if it really classified as dancing as such, but he had John in his arms and he was moving against him in something approximating a rhythm; he was more than happy to consider it their first dance. He almost laughed at himself as he felt his cheeks warm slightly. God, he really was a romantic idiot, wasn't he? He sighed as he felt some of John's tension melt away, his body becoming a little more pliant against his as they shifted together from side to side. Really, he could kick himself for not thinking this through. He'd been so excited to see Edward again that he had failed to take John's mental state into account. Not that John appreciated being coddled, and Greg couldn't blame him for that, not at all. But there was such a thing as being a considerate person and boyfriend besides; Greg felt that he had thoroughly bollocksed that up for the evening.    
   
He knew that John wouldn't see it that way, of course. Greg was sure that if he tried to apologise for being an inconsiderate twat, he'd get a dirty look at the least and maybe even a sock on the arm at the worst. _'I'm not a goddamn china doll, Gregory. Stop treating me like one.'_ And the thing was, Greg knew that. He knew better than most that John was anything but delicate; in fact, Greg had leant on him for support far more often than the reverse. No, John wasn't breakable, not really. But that didn't stop Greg from wanting to protect him, to wrap his John up in cotton wool and bloody well keep him in his pocket, if that would only keep him safe and sane. That was hardly feasible, though, was it?  
   
And so he tamped down his own anxiety, holding John close and just swaying with him. Until he spied one of the tables by the wall opening up; seizing John by the arm, Greg wove his way through the people and obstacles blocking the path, beating out another couple by mere seconds. John laughed, but had no issue with promptly plopping his arse down on one of the stools and giving the other blokes a cheery _'fuck off, it's ours'_ grin. Greg quirked an eyebrow as their scowls turned into reluctant smiles and they faded back into the crowd.

Greg collected the pint glasses left behind by the previous occupants and gave John a swift kiss on the cheek. "Thirsty, love?" John nodded, and Greg hauled his armload of dirty glassware off to the bar and tried to catch someone's attention. He felt a nudge at his back and ignored it until he was nudged again, this time hard enough to nearly knock him off his feet.

_"Oi!"_

"Oi yerself, mucker."

"Geoff!" Greg eyed the three pints that the barman had arranged in his meaty paws. "Would a couple of those be available, mate?" Geoff's eyes twinkled and he nodded toward John before setting off in that direction. John smiled and reached out to assist, but Geoff just shook his head before placing them gently on the table top. John and Greg took possession of a pint each and they all raised their glasses to each other before imbibing.

"Ta, mate." John smiled again, feeling instantly at ease with the burly Scotsman. "Don't think we were introduced last time." He mock-frowned at Greg. "This one's got all the manners of a bloody barnyard beastie."

"Oh, aye, yer quite correct, mucker. Mah name's Geoff, bin tendin' bar here for aboot a decade noo. Most nights it's nae hardship, but nights loch these - ach. Ah'd hae torn mah hair clean it ay mah heed, if'n Ah had onie..."

Greg chuckled. "Sometimes I'm surprised you just don't start knocking their heads together, mate." He grinned and leant over to kiss John's temple. "Geoff, I'd like you to meet John Watson." John gave him a swift elbow to the side and held out his hand. Geoff took it and gave it a brief squeeze.

"Pleased tae meetchye, John. How lang ye bin together, t'en?"

John frowned slightly. "About four months, I guess?"

"Tat's aw?" Both John and Greg shrugged and nodded slightly. "Ah'd hae thooght it longer." Geoff smiled at the tilt of Greg's head. "Daein' thes job, in a place loch thes, it's easy tae start noticin' things aboot people. Ah ken which cooples are only gonnae lest the nicht, an' which are gonna make it. Ye tois - ye fit. Ye awreddy look loch yoo've bin taegether fur yairs." He grinned at the blushes being directed at him before holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Ach, forgit Ah ever spoke. Early days yit, Ah gie it."

Greg took a couple of hefty pulls from his pint and set it down. "Are ya on break, Geoff? It's just that John here isn't much for dancing, and I need to shake some of this week off my arse. Y'mind keeping him company for a bit?"

John rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He knew that Greg wasn't really worried about leaving him alone. This was just his awkward way of bowing out, leaving the two men to gossip about him as they were clearly anxious to do.

Geoff smiled. "Aye, Ah kin keep oan eye on heem fur ye. Make sure naebody tries tae rin aff wi' yer bonnie laddie..." John shook his head, but grabbed Greg by the shirt and hauled him in for a snog that left him quite cross-eyed and grinning like a fool before he disappeared into the melee on the dance floor.

John took another pull of his bitter before looking Geoff up and down. "So. You and Greg..."

"A lang time ago, aye. Only th' ance."

"And?"

"It were brilliant, o' coorse. Ah'm sure Ah don't need tae teel ye tat." John bit his lip and shook his head. "It was jist bad timin' - durin' ane o' th' mony off-agains atween heem an' Edward. Ah t'ink they got back taegether th' next bludy day, fur fuck's sake. Loch ae coople of bludy teenagers, those tois. An', weel, Ah'm nae really th' sort tat seeks it repeat performances, ye gie me? Althoogh if thaur hud bin anyain worth repeatin' wi'..."

John laughed. "He does have a way about him, doesn't he?"

"Tat he diz, mucker. Tat he diz." Geoff pulled the other stool around to the front of the table, so he could situate himself a little closer to John.

"What can you tell me about Edward?"

Geoff pulled back slightly and eyed John doubtfully. "Wa dae ye want tae ken?"

John looked to the dance floor and nodded curtly at the sight of Greg and Edward thoroughly wrapped up in each other. Geoff turned wide eyes back to him. "It's all right, we have an arrangement." Geoff continued to stare, eyebrows slowing making their way up to his shiny pate. John chuckled. "Really."

" _Hrm_. D'ye jist - bide, nae - ne'er min'." John laughed as Geoff cleared his throat. "Edward. Nae a bad bloke. Bit ay a Daddy's lad - spoiled rotten an' used tae gettin' whit he wants."

"And his history with Greg?"

"Weel, Ah'm nae sure Ah can say, really. If Greg hasnae tauld ye... Yoo've obvioosly seen whit they dae tae each other. Ah t'ink tat, in th' end, they waur jist tay different. An' loch Ah said, Edward was used tae gettin' whit he wanted an' whit he wanted wasnae alway Greg, if ye see whit Ah mean. Althoogh Ah cannae imagine wa..." He turned to look at them again, Greg's head thrown back as Edward bent to nibble at his neck. Greg bit his bottom lip and languidly opened his eyes to stare at John intensely. Geoff cleared his throat once more and turned back, his face nicely pink. John grinned at him wickedly and shifted on his stool, casually crossing his legs to hide his own rather obvious reaction. Geoff grinned back and then hesitated. "John. Ah'd teel ye tae be cannie, but tae be honest, Ah dinnae t'ink ye hae much tae worry aboot. It's jist tat - weel, loch Ah said, he's spoiled an' if someain else has somethin' braw an' shiny t'en he usually wants it aw th' mair, ye ken?"

John nodded. "I appreciate that, Geoff. I do know. But I'm not worried. Not at all."

"Nae. Early days an' aw, but ye tois - yoo're gonna make it." John blushed and looked down at his hands. "Ah'll expect an invite tae th' weddin', mucker." John's head whipped up in shock, but then he broke out into uproarious laughter as Geoff winked at him conspiratorially.

It was at this moment that a young man sidled up to the two men at the table, his eyes fixed on John. In a move that was somehow timid and yet bold, he reached out to run a finger along John's arm. "Could I interest you in a dance, handsome?"

John smirked and casually laid a hand on Geoff's knee. "No thanks, cutie. I'm all set for the evening." Geoff let his fingers dance along the back of John's hand, and they both smiled at the intruder until he nodded and backed away. John smacked Geoff's knee hard as he pulled away, giggling madly. "Good lord, he looked all of fifteen! I could be his father, for fuck's sake!" His eyes scanned the club as he took another pull of his pint. "Have they always been this young?"

"Feels loch it, soom day." Geoff grinned wickedly. "Ah dorn't min' sae much."

John's smirk intensified slightly. "Young and a little inexperienced, perhaps looking for someone to guide them a bit?"

Geoff blushed bright-pink. "Ah see it as mah sacred duty tae send those puir yoong whelps it intae th' big bad bent warld wit' a bit a knowledge under their belts, aye."

John giggled. "I'm sure that there are many men out there that have benefited from your kindness and consideration, even if they aren't entirely aware of it."

"Aye. Ah loch tae operate behin' th' scenes, as it waur." Geoff eyed John with delight as he giggled again. "Sae, thes arrangement ay yoors..."

John licked his lips, his eyes sparkling even as he shook his head. "We're not open, not really. Right now, it's just me watching those two. It is incredibly intense, and incredibly hot. Then I get to kick Edward to the kerb and I get Greg all to myself and we shag six ways from Sunday. We quite exhausted ourselves the last time. The chafing - good Christ!"

Geoff snorted, nearly choking on his bitter. "Aw reit. Weel, ye ken, if ye ever - "

John smiled and winked. "Oh, if it happens, you'll be first on the list, Geoffrey. Don't have a Scotsman notched on my bedpost yet..." John giggled once more as the barman's face turned yet another distinct shade of red.

"Damn, John, Ah'm glad he mit ye." Geoff smiled shyly as John's giggles faded away. "Greg an' Ah - weel, we didnae quite mesh, bit Ah've always woriat aboot heem fur soom reason. Yoo're guid fur heem. In fact, Ah'd say tat yoo're guid fur each other. Sae, Ah'm glad, tat's aw."

John reached out for his knee again and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you, Geoff. I'm glad you're glad."

Geoff huffed out a brief snort of laughter and then stiffened as someone snugged up close behind him and attempted to wrap his arms around his barrel chest. Greg's head popped up over his shoulder and he eyed the placement of John's hand with a little grin. "Fast friends already, then?"

"Christ, Greg, ye shooldnae sneak up oan fowk loch tat. Nex' time ye'll gie a smack."

Greg rolled his eyes and darted in to lay a quick kiss on Geoff's cheek. "I'll smack you..."

John smiled as the friends pulled faces at each other and then held out his hand. "Gregory..."

" _Mm_." Greg let go of Geoff without hesitation, reaching out to grab John's hand, allowing himself to be pulled in close. He leant down to bury his nose in John's neck as he raked his fingers through his damp hair. Both of the men seemed to completely forget about their drinking companion as they breathed each other in.

"Jesus, I can't get enough of you when you're all mucky like this." Greg shivered as John pulled him down and licked at a drop of sweat on his temple. "Oh, yes." He hummed and licked at another droplet trickling down into Greg's collar. "Fuck _yes_ , just lay you out and lick all the sweat from your body, wring you dry..."

Greg groaned and he shuddered again. " _Christ_ , John. You're gonna make me come in my pants, you wicked little thing. C'mon, E's waiting for us."

"Mm. Can't wait to feel his cock in you again, can you? You're such a slut, Gregory. Nothing but a filthy whore."

"Maybe, but I'm your whore, Captain Watson. And you are seriously going to make me lose it if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Why would I care whether or not Edward gets his fun with you? You come now, then I get to take you home, don't I?"

"Yes, but then you wouldn't be able to claim me as yours again, would you? Again, and again, and oh Jesus fuck _again_ , John. I know you want to watch as he violates me so you can feel that irrational jealousy start to rise, to watch as your possession is possessed by another man so that when he's done you can kick his arse out and then take what is yours again, to stake your claim on me in every way possible. To scent me, to mark me, to fuck me so thoroughly that you're damn well branded on me, under my skin and inside my head. Nothing left but you, John, nothing _in_ me but you. I don't want him like that, not the way I want you. But to get you the way I want, I have to wake that little green monster, don't I? So I'm gonna ride that other man like he's the best fuck of my life because I know that the best is yet to come."

John snarled quietly and tightened his hold on Greg's hair. "I'll show you jealous, you dirty bastard." Greg sighed as John released him just long enough to slide off the stool and then grab his hand. The men turned to face Geoff, who had turned utterly beetroot-red and seemed to be having some difficulty maintaining his breathing. Without another word, they ducked in together to lay sweet little kisses on either cheek and then headed off to the playrooms, John marching ahead with determination and tugging Greg along behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another encounter for Greg and Edward, with John as witness...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a little angsty here, but that's all right, right? Some people like that sort of thing, right?
> 
> Hm.
> 
> (Please feel free to comment, let me know how I'm doing!)
> 
> Thank you all so very much...

Greg stopped John in the hallway briefly, nearly breathless with giggling. "Jesus, poor Geoff..."  
   
John grinned and pressed him up against the wall. "I should've asked for his number. I had a hell of a time chatting with him."  
   
"I have it and maybe if you're nice to me, I'll share it with you." Greg chuckled low. "Can't blame you for wanting to step out on me with that one... That bloody accent of his does something to me, although I only understand him about half the time. And he's so big and burly - yum."  
   
John laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't be stepping out on you, you daft fool. We would just chat from time to time. I hadn't any problem understanding him at all. My Granddad came directly from the Auld Sod, so it just took me back a bit, I suppose. I found it surprisingly easy to make him blush, and damn fun, besides."  
   
"You are a naughty creature, John Watson." Greg hummed as John went up on his toes to press a hard kiss to his lips.  
   
"Ach, aye laddie, tat Ah be, an' Ah'll make nae excuses fur it."  
   
 _"Oh Christ."_  
   
"Aye?  Ae body wonders hoo ye micht react tae seein' me in mah kilts, t'en."  
   
"John. You _don't_. Do you? Oh Jesus fuck, you _do_ , don't you?" Greg bit his lip as John ground against him shamelessly. He cleared his throat. "Y'know... Geoff does compete in the Games from time to time... We could always go and, um, cheer him on and all that. I mean, if you're missing your Granddad - might be nice to hear the pipes and all, right? Give you a chance to wear your tartan, show your pride..."  
   
John giggled. "Oh, aye - an' seein' aw t'ose braw Scotsman in thair wee skirts wooldnae be piquin' yer interest at aw, Ah imagine?"  
   
Greg smiled softly. "I've only eyes for one lad with Scots blood, and he could be wearing a bloody burlap sack for all I care."  
   
John scoffed but smiled in return, pulling Greg down into a slow kiss that quickly grew heated.  
   
Edward suddenly poked his head out from one of the doors, huffing impatiently. "Oh, come on! Save some of him for me, will ya?" John's eyes narrowed as he glared at the taller man, but Edward just flapped his hand at him. "Yes, yes, I know. You're the big bad. _Please_ , John. Please share your boyfriend's lovely arse with me and then I'll be on my way and out of your hair for another fortnight or so..."  
   
Greg took John's hand and led him into the room. "Jesus, Edward, you don't have to be such a bloody queen all the time. If you were more pleasant, this might happen more often, you know."  
   
Edward closed the door behind them and leaned up against it. "So I should bow and scrape to the tiny tyrant there, and praise him for every little morsel of you that I get to taste?"  
   
John crossed his arms over his chest and just stood there, doing his damnedest to drill little holes into Edward's body with nothing more than his mind. Greg sighed and stepped in front of him, pulling his shirt up and off. He spread his arms. "If you want me as much as you claim to, then - yes. But we both know that I'm not that special, isn't that right? Because if I were, then you would have tried to hold onto me a bit tighter all those years ago. You only want me now because I _am_ John's, and this is the only way you can have me. So make up your mind now and either fuck me or walk right out that door and lose my number somewhere along the way."

Leaving Edward to think it over, Greg turned and pressed a somewhat tense kiss to John's forehead before wandering over to check out the small but rather intriguing wardrobe standing in the corner. Greg whistled low at the sight of the many restraints and other accessories laid out on the shelves. John's stiff posture melted slightly as he caught the wicked grin that was being directed at him. He also took in the mildly puzzled look on Greg's face and sighed as he walked over to the wall and reached up to grasp the bar that was set into it up near the ceiling.

Greg's eyes lit up as he looked around and saw additional bars and even rings arranged at all heights throughout the room. He pulled a set of leather cuffs connected with a short length of chain out of the wardrobe and bit his lip suggestively as he waggled his eyebrows at John. "No, Gregory." John glanced at Edward, who hadn't moved from his sulky posture up against the door. "Not yet, anyway." Greg pouted, but put them away and closed up the wardrobe before turning his attention back to the big git at the door. He toed off his shoes and stripped down completely, leaving himself exposed for both John and Edward's openly appreciative gazes.

"Finished with your strop yet? What will it be, Edward?"  
   
The taller man sighed in resignation. "Darling, it's not like you're really leaving me any choice here."  
   
Greg shrugged and drifted over to the sofa that Edward had already covered with a clean sheet. He sifted through the small pile of supplies on one cushion and sprawled out on the other. "Then get over here." He grinned crookedly. "Darling."  
   
Edward glanced at John, whose attention was entirely focused on the hand that Greg was using to stroke himself to fullness. Greg let his eyes flicker over Edward's body before returning his gaze to John's face, keeping his eyes on his lover even as he threw his head back and sighed with pleasure. Edward smirked as John's fingers twitched, because he knew exactly what impulse John was fighting; that nearly irresistible urge to just go to Greg's side and tug on his gorgeous silver hair with one hand and work his thick cock over with the other. 

He took a moment to study the smaller man briefly, attempting to work out what it was about him that set his nerves so on edge. John hadn't done anything to him, not really... Thus far, any unpleasantness between the two of them had simply been a response to his own ridiculous posturing and snark. In fact, John had seemingly reacted with admirable restraint, considering the little demonstration of his physical prowess from the time before. No, John himself was inoffensive, it was what he represented that got so under his skin. Whatever it was that had been missing from his own relationship with Greg; the loyalty, the - dedication. Even here, with another man practically standing between them, John was nothing but confident that their connection wouldn't be damaged; not even a little. With an inward sigh, Edward acknowledged the truth of John's certainty. Even having been together for two years, well - more or less - Greg had never been Edward's as completely as he was John's, and that was only after a few short months.

_Fuck_. Damn irrational jealousy, it made him lose all focus. He wanted Greg, yes, and he was bloody well here for the taking! He couldn't keep him, though, and it nearly broke his heart now to think that he once had that opportunity; actually, more than once, since Greg was nothing if not ridiculously forgiving, but he had squandered away all those chances long ago.

Edward came back to himself with a little start, feeling Greg's sharp gaze on him. His eyes were narrowed slightly, as if he were reading the tenor of his thoughts on his face. There was perhaps a hint of concern far back in the dark depths, but his expression was mostly distant, and even a little chilly. Oh no, there were no more chances. Edward could see clearly that Greg would have absolutely no problem with him walking right out and possibly never seeing him again. He was just using him to make John happy, and Heaven help him if that wasn't one of the most pathetic and yet sexiest things he'd ever been subjected to.

All of the love that this beautiful man had offered to him over the years, and now that it had gone cold and lifeless, only now, did Edward's heart belong to him utterly.

Greg's eyes widened slightly and he shook his head even as he held out a hand. "E..." He beckoned to him. "C'mere. I've a little surprise for you."  
   
Edward sighed quietly as he answered Greg's summons, his body propelling him forward even as his mind hesitated. He should leave, he knew that - to preserve his dignity at the very least, if not his sanity. But Edward found all thoughts of self-preservation being chased away at the sight of Greg rising smoothly to his feet to meet him, reaching up to undo the buttons of his shirt as he rubbed his cheek along his jawline. Christ, the rubbing. Edward had almost forgotten about that, the way Greg would just mould their bodies together, hold him tight and move nothing but his head, touching cheek to cheek, nose to throat, hot breath in his ear until Edward was ready to do anything, give anything as long as it meant _more_.    
   
Greg pulled back and looked up at him with that teasing,  faux-innocent expression that he knew sent him nearly mental every damn time, those big brown eyes framed by the darkest and thickest lashes he'd ever seen on a man. Edward let himself look, just take it all in as Greg's fingers continued to open his shirt and then moved lower to deftly work at belt and zip.  
   
Edward moaned almost silently. "Oh, Greg... My darling..."  
   
Greg smiled a little sadly before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Once upon a time, Edward. Not anymore. Now I'm just - " He hesitated before his smile brightened and his eyes began to twinkle. "Now I'm just your fucktoy."  
   
Edward chuckled and grasped his face in both hands to kiss him greedily. "I'm okay with that."  
   
" _Are_ you? Really?" Greg shoved his hands down into Edward's pants and grabbed at his arse, squeezing hard.  
   
Edward groaned. "Yes, God _yes_." They snogged a bit more, Edward caressing Greg's face and shoulders as Greg kept a firm hold on Edward's arse under his pants.  
   
"E, I want you to touch me. You know I love those freakishly big hands of yours. Touch me, E. All over.  C'mon..."  
   
Edward smiled even as his body shuddered at Greg's words. "Fucktoys don't talk, darling."  
   
Greg pouted and whined. "E..."  
   
"Hush. Didn't you say you had a surprise for me?"  
   
"Yes!" Greg's eyes glinted gleefully as he quickly shoved Edward's jeans and pants down and pushed him onto the sofa. Edward grunted as his naked arse hit the pillowed surface, but he spread his legs to make as much room for Greg as he needed. He caught sight of John out of the corner of his eye, sidling sideways to get a better view as Greg turned and bent over at the waist, practically shoving his arse in Edward's face.  
   
He sucked in a quick breath and moaned on the exhale. Edward heard John chuckle low and deep as his cock visibly bobbed against his belly at the view being presented to him, a bright blue plug nestled between Greg's cheeks. He hummed in appreciation and then frowned as he ran his hands from thigh to arse, spreading his fingers wide to cup as much of Greg's flesh as possible as he pressed his thumbs against the flat surface of the plug.  
   
Greg gasped and wriggled against him before looking over his shoulder. "You like?" His own mouth turned down slightly as he caught the look on Edward's face. "What's wrong?" He straightened and turned, reaching out for a condom. "John went to quite a bit of trouble to make sure that I'd be all ready for you..."  
   
Edward's expression darkened as he threw John a sideways look. "Oh, yes, lots of trouble, I imagine. To make sure that this is over as quickly as possible..." John's eyes narrowed, but only briefly. The expression that flitted across his face immediately afterwards could only be described as pity, and Edward decided right then that if pissing John off was the only way to keep _that_ fucking look off his face, then he'd happily do whatever he could to keep making him angry as hell.  
   
Greg sighed even as he rolled the condom over Edward's cock, giving him a firm tug for good measure. "No, you jackass. When did you become so fucking negative?" He ripped open a packet of lube and expertly slicked him up. "Quite the opposite, in fact. He commented that perhaps having you open me up like you did the last time got us both a bit over-excited, and that if I was prepared ahead of time, that maybe we'd last longer. Seemed like a pretty good plan to me."  
   
"Oh. I - well. Yes." Edward left it at that, as he wasn't about to apologise, not even for his own misunderstanding.  
   
Greg bit his lip as he bent forward slightly, bracing one hand on Edward's shoulder as he reached behind with the other, grasping the base of the plug and pulling it out slowly. Edward almost wished he could have seen the process from the other end, but then he wouldn't have been able to watch Greg's face, how his lovely dark eyes fluttered in ecstasy. John moaned quietly from somewhere off to the side, but Edward couldn't spare even a single glance for him. Not when Greg was there in front of him, gently urging him to slide forward just a bit, straddling his thighs and taking his cock in hand, lining himself up just right and then sinking down onto him, impaling himself completely with a full-body shudder and a satisfied groan from somewhere deep in his belly.  
   
Greg rocked slightly from side to side, settling himself and causing ripples of pleasure to twist through Edward's gut. He wrapped his arms around the body tucked up in his lap and pulled Greg in close, relishing the feel of his thick hard cock pressed against his belly. Greg sighed and nestled his head on Edward's shoulder, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. The men stilled together, feeling the pulse of each  other's bodies, letting the connection between their legs shift and open fully, Greg sinking ever lower and Edward pressing in ever deeper.  
   
"Fuck yes. Jesus Mary and Joseph, you feel so fucking _good_ , E."  
   
Edward hummed. "You feel even better." He loosened his hold, spreading his legs a little more and bracing his feet as Greg shifted on his lap, beginning to roll his hips in long exaggerated motions. Edward's head fell back against the sofa and he groaned. "So hot, so tight."  
   
Greg grinned as he lifted himself, just a bit, before grinding back down hard. "Remember, E - remember how you made me wait for this in the beginning? And then, the first couple of times we tried it, you were so worked up that you couldn't make it in me at all before exploding all over?" Edward blushed hotly at John's barely suppressed giggle. He opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut as Greg placed his fingers to his lips. "Shush. I'm not making fun, darling. We've all had those moments. Shit, I could barely last at all at first, no matter what we were doing. It was all so new - so good." He lifted himself a tad higher. "Oh so fucking good." Greg rolled his head on his shoulders and fixed Edward with a smouldering stare. "I just wanted you to remember, that's all. How it felt when we were so wrapped up in each other that the real world just drifted away... How much fun we had together. God, E. It was so much damn  _fun_."

Edward smiled at Greg's ham-handed attempt to tell him to chill the fuck out without actually saying the words. After all, fun was supposed to be what this was all about, right? Edward shook himself slightly, letting the tension in his shoulders melt away as he reached out to gently roll Greg's nipples in his fingers. He grinned as the man in his lap shuddered and started to lift himself a bit higher, a bit faster. Edward wrapped his hands around Greg's waist and slid just a little further down on the sofa, snapping his hips up sharply to meet his downward motion.

Greg threw his head back with a quiet hiss of pleasure. "Yes, E, oh _hell_ yes." Edward grunted in reply, his eyes flickering between the look of pure bliss on Greg's face to the steady pumping motions of his hips, his gorgeous thick cock bouncing with every thrust. Unable to stop himself, Edward reached out with his bare hand to flick at the bead of  pre-come at the head of Greg's cock, swiping it up with his thumb and automatically raising it to his mouth.

"Oh, _Jesus_." Greg's voice petered out into a low moan at the sight and his pace increased exponentially. Edward glanced sideways at John with a somewhat apologetic expression, only just aware that he had kinda-sorta broken a rule. The look on the smaller man's face was a little disappointed, but not entirely disproving. After all, Edward was an adult, and if he wanted to take those kinds of risks, then he was free to do so. Although, if the positions had been reversed, had Greg tasted Edward like that, he was certain that the proceedings would have come to a screeching halt.

As it was, that tiny bit of rebellion, as unconscious as it was, had cheered Edward up to quite a ridiculous degree. He still knew that the little bastard was in charge, but that brief taste of his former lover had put a spark back into his belly. Oh, that _taste_... Just to tempt fate, he did it again, deliberately trailing one finger along the  fraenulum of Greg's cock and up the slit to capture one perfect pearl, bringing it to his lips and sucking it deep inside. He watched as Greg blushed and bit his lip against another moan, his thrusts once again picking up in speed and intensity.

Greg looked at John desperately, and Edward spared another glance for his tormentor. John licked his lips and reached over the back of the sofa, ripping another packet of lube open. He handed it to Edward with a little wink. "I'll allow it."

Edward quirked an eyebrow as Greg writhed against him. "Yes, _yes_. Your hand, E. Touch me, stroke me.  C'mon, pull me off with that lovely strong hand of yours. Make me spurt all over you, c'mon." Greg braced his arms on Edward's shoulders, body clenching down hard as he rode him. Edward shivered and then did as he was commanded, trickling a little of the lube over the darkly flushed head of Greg's cock before fisting him hard and fast.

Greg's body spasmed around him and they both groaned. "Jesus, _Greg_. I want to see you come. Want to feel you all hot and sticky on my hand. Oh, it's been so long. Give me a show, darling." Edward snarled quietly as Greg's rhythm started to break apart, his body going still before jerking minutely, his cock pulsing in Edward's hand as he came and came, long white spurts that painted the tensed muscles of Edward's stomach.

Edward grunted and continued to push through Greg's orgasm, his own hips stuttering as the convulsions in the body surrounding him combined with the wrecked look on Greg's face pulled his own release out of him quite neatly. He wrapped his free arm around Greg's waist and pulled him down hard as he thrust in even harder, spilling deep into him. Both men's bodies were stiff and tense for long moments, until Greg finally relaxed, slumping down, chin to chest. Once his arse was no longer clamping down on Edward's cock, the larger man found that he was able to relax as well. His let his hands slip off of Greg's body, unconsciously wiping his soiled hand on the sheet covering the sofa. They grinned at each other, regaining breath and wiping sweat from their eyes.  
    
Greg groaned as he raised himself off of Edward's lap, feeling a little twinge of disappointment as his cock slipped out. He took a moment to press a trembling kiss to Edward's mouth, which the larger man returned with enthusiasm, until John cleared his throat pointedly. Greg licked his lips and smirked at Edward's exasperated sigh, shifting sideways to lounge on the sofa as Edward stood and pulled himself back together. Considering he hadn't really undressed, it was just a matter of disposing of the condom and wiping down briefly, before yanking up pants and jeans. He didn't even bother to button up his shirt as John escorted him to the door. He turned back momentarily, and Greg wiggled his fingers at him in farewell, smiling as Edward shook his head morosely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Greg, doing what they do best... ;-p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a bit of back and forth going on here, to tell the truth I don't even know why or what-have-you, I just know that I wanted more hot sex and that it sometimes veered off into interesting territory. So yeah...
> 
> Comments are my lifeblood, darlings! Let me know if I've gone too off the rails here...

Greg stretched out on the sofa and tilted his head, blushing at John's intense stare as he leaned against the door. "So, Captain... How are you going to take me this time?"  
   
John pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed. "You're going to take me, Gregory. I want you to open me up while you suck me off, and by the time you've done that, you'll be ready again, and then you're going to slide right in and fuck me up against this door."  
   
Greg sat up and shivered. "John, you're usually too twitchy right after you come."  
   
"Oh, yes. And that's just how I want it tonight. I want every single man on the other side of this door to know exactly what you're doing to me. I want them to know it, I want them to damn well _feel_ it. I want them bloody cross-eyed with jealousy. I want to walk out of this place holding your hand, knowing that I've got the best goddamn lover and, quite frankly, the best goddamn man in this entire fucking club." He grinned fiercely, eyes narrowing even further. "Hell, I may even want some of them to try and take you from me, just so I can feel all superior and shite as you turn them down. All the young, pretty, fit boys out there are gonna be drooling over you, but I'm the one you're gonna go home with."

"You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"No, but I am sure of you." John pulled his t-shirt off and started working his zip loose. "Now. Get your arse over here." Greg's mouth filled with saliva as he watched John's beautiful cock bounce free from his pants. John dropped a folded towel and some additional supplies on the floor at his feet and reached over his head to grasp the bar above the door. Greg stood on shaky legs and took the few steps required to reach out and touch, running his fingers lightly over every taut muscle in chest and arms, dear God, those arms...

John smiled slowly, sharply. "On your knees, Gregory."  
   
Greg countered with a vulpine grin of his own, reaching up to clamp his hands around John's wrists with a questioning glance down at his lover. "Captain..."  
   
John rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded. "Go on, then." He released the bar briefly as Greg turned and scampered back to the wardrobe excitedly. He stretched his arms behind his back and rolled his neck a few times, judging the state of his shoulder. Moving easily, no awkward twinges. Good to go, then. As long as they started with something simple, of course. John smiled again as Greg came back to him, holding the leather cuffs. "Let me take a look first."  
   
Greg quirked his head but complied, watching as John checked over the equipment with a practised hand. He felt his eyebrows rising exponentially, but kept his mouth firmly shut as John handed the cuffs back to him and held out one arm, the inside of his wrist exposed. Greg growled faintly as he bent over it swiftly, licking and then biting down on his pulse point. John gasped quietly and Greg stole a look at his face as he wrapped the leather around his wrist, buckling it securely. John bit his lip as he worked the cuff with his other hand, nodding at Greg. Then he reached over his head again, waiting for Greg to work the chain under and over the bar before buckling the other cuff. He tugged briefly and then took hold of the bar with his hands, tugging again and lifting his feet, letting his weight hang off the bar for just a moment. It held fast and John nodded again.  
   
God, he obviously knew what he was doing and good Lord why hadn't they explored this sort of thing before and now Greg wanted nothing more than to be held utterly immobilised while John did whatever the hell he liked with him. _Anything_ , Jesus.  
   
John watched all of this skitter over his lover's face and he smiled at him wickedly, his grin ever-so-slight and ever-so-smug. Christ, sweet baby Jesus. Greg took in a shuddery breath and continued to run his hands down John's arms, leaning in to nibble at his biceps and triceps and God, even under his arms, the smell somehow clean and bright and oh-so-John. He nuzzled at that spot, that ridiculous little spot just under John's left arm that made him moan unabashedly and his beautiful prick twitch and leak profusely. Oh yes, and then a tender lick at one nipple before positively attacking the other, sucking and biting and tugging with his teeth.  
   
His lover writhed and the sound of the chain colliding against the bar nearly made Greg's legs buckle from underneath him, so he went with it, sliding to his knees as he trailed his tongue down John's sternum to his tight little belly and then lower. John snarled quietly and hooked one leg around Greg's torso, drawing him in closer. Greg grinned when he saw that there was another bar set into the door below.  
   
"I could go get the ankle cuffs too, Captain."  
   
John gasped and threw his head back. "Not - not this time, Gregory."  
   
"Oh, like you'd have any choice." Greg tossed the offending leg over his shoulder and turned his head to nibble at a luscious inner thigh.  
   
"Listen to me very carefully." Greg frowned and looked up into an extremely serious and scarily calm face. "If you bind me in any way without my explicit consent, this will be the last night you see me."  
   
Greg froze and blinked up at him in horror. "Jesus fuck, John, I was _teasing_. How could you possibly think that I would ever do anything like that to you. Holy shit. I don't know whether to be more offended that you would even think me capable of such a thing, or that you felt the need to threaten me like that." Greg released his leg and sat back on his heels. "Jesus. Jesus fucking _Christ_." He stood abruptly and reached for the restraints. "Time to go, then."  
   
John grunted as he heaved his body up and wrapped his legs around Greg's waist and yanked him in close. Greg gasped in shock and his hands automatically came down to cup at John's arse, helping to support his weight. "Wait, Greg. Just - wait." John pressed his face into his chest and Greg blinked rapidly as John's hot damp breath ghosted over his skin. There was a quiet hitch in the body pressed up against his and then John turned his head to take in a deep breath. "I had an - well - unpleasant experience once, okay? I didn't mean to accuse you of anything, I think I just panicked. I'm sorry. I'm so _so_ sorry, love. Please don't. Just wait. Wait with me. Just a bit."  
   
Greg propped his body up against the door and tucked his face into John's neck, listening to his heartbeat. "If that's the case, then maybe you aren't ready for the cuffs, John. D'you want me to let you loose?" He didn't ask if he wanted to talk about his previous experiences. He trusted John to tell him the things that he thought he needed to know, after all.  
   
"No. I want this, I want you like this. I trust you, Greg. I do. I just - flashed, I guess and you weren't you anymore and oh God I'm so sorry."  
   
"Shh, love. Shh. You didn't look panicked, you looked - scary. Too calm, somehow. It was a little freaky."  
   
"Yeah, well, you weren't in my head."  
   
"All right. You're all right. Everything's all right, now." Greg paused and shifted his hold a bit, reaching up to gently run his fingers through John's tawny hair. "Are you sure you're up for this?"  
   
John laughed low and rolled his hips, rubbing against Greg languidly. Although his erection had waned, he had not gone completely soft. "I am so up for this, Gregory. Back on your knees, and stop fucking around."  
   
" _Pfft._ How is it that you're the one giving the orders when you're the one in the bloody cuffs?"  
   
"I'm just that good, I guess."   
   
Greg tried to back away, but found that John's legs were still firmly wrapped around him. "You'll have to let me go, Captain."

" _Um._ " John leaned his head up against the door and graced him with a rather weak smile. Greg ran his hands along and under John's thighs, feeling the way the muscles were tensed, fluttering under his touch. With a slight frown, he quickly realised that John couldn't actually let him go.

"Hm." Greg leant in and pressed soft kisses along John's shoulder, dipping his head to lick and nibble at his collarbone and neck. John let out a shuddering sigh as Greg worked at marking him thoroughly, sucking a vibrant red mark into his flesh. He smiled to himself as the tension slowly leached out of John's legs, all of the energy that was holding them stiff being transferred to the utterly perfect piece of anatomy that was now pressing rather painfully against his abdomen. John's legs fell open and down as Greg went to his knees again. "Oh, that's so much better, isn't it, Captain?"

"Gregory..."  
   
"Tell me again that you're okay with this." John blinked down at him and nodded. "I just have this feeling that... No, tell you what." Greg stood and unhooked the chain, bringing John's hands down in front of him before hooking it again. "So you're restricted, but not restrained. Is that better?"  
   
John grinned and suddenly tossed the chain over Greg's neck, using it to pull him in for a fierce kiss. "Much. You - you've an instinct for this, Greg. Perhaps this is something that we should explore a little further..."  
   
Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Um."  
   
"Later. We'll discuss it later." John growled low. "For now, you've business to attend to." He reached for the bar again, waiting until Greg was once more on his knees to hook one leg over his shoulder. "Open me up. Suck me off. Now."  
   
Greg shook his head in bemusement as he reached for a glove and a packet of lube. Normally, he'd use his bare hand, but this particular room didn't have a sink and he didn't relish the idea of fighting his way through the crowd to get to the toilets just to wash his hands. John frowned slightly and nodded.  
   
"Next time I'll bring some of those disinfectant wipes."  
   
Greg quirked an easy grin up at him. "So practical, Captain Watson."  
   
John blinked down at him, suddenly feeling an unaccountable tightness in his chest. "God, you're gorgeous." Greg's bright blush brought him back from the brink of confession, and he turned to the only thing he could think of to distract them both. "He loves you, you know."  
   
Greg's breath whooshed out of his body in a rush, almost as if John had kicked him in the belly. "God, John. I think I'm developing a bit of whiplash here."  
   
John snorted. "Sorry, I don't know why that came out the way it did. I just - well, I saw it tonight, that's all. How he really feels, why he's so pissed off at me. He's hurting for you."  
   
Greg scowled fiercely, a rather terrifying expression on his normally caring face. "Yeah, well, serves him right for break- " He stopped and looked down at his hands. "What I told him earlier is true; he only wants me now because he can't have me - because I belong to someone else." He sighed and his expression turned from something dark to something sad and wistful. "We've not deceived him in any way and if he can't handle it, then that's all on him, isn't it?"  
   
"Believe me, if I were in _any_ way a decent man, I'd put a stop to all of this right now. Edward may be a complete and utter dick, but that doesn't mean he should suffer for it. So if I were a decent man, I'd tell him that he hasn't a chance and he needs to stop being a spoiled child. I'd tell him to stop letting his prick rule his life and to bloody well grow up." He looked down at Greg and growled. "But I am _not_ a decent man, Gregory, and the things he does to you - _oh_. I don't care if his heart shatters to bits and turns to dust in his chest just so long as I get to witness you being speared on that cock of his, to watch you deep in the throes of your ecstasy, to listen to the unbelievably gorgeous noises you make as you're getting there, to see your face when he brings you right to the brink and then bloody well pushes you right over the edge. Oh, fuck _yes_."  
   
Greg gaped stupidly before pulling himself together, a bit of reproach in his voice. "But, John - you - you're the best man I know."  
   
John scoffed at him gently. "Obviously not. Because I damn well want to see him _burn_ for you. I want him to want you so badly that I can practically taste his desperation, oh-so-sweet on my tongue. Does that make me a good man, Gregory?"  
   
"God, no." Greg snarled and bit into the tender flesh of John's inner thigh, slicking up his fingers. John spread his legs and hissed as one broad digit probed insistently at his arsehole. "It makes you _my_ man." He pushed and wiggled his finger until John's body opened for it, sliding it in all the way before simply devouring his Captain's cock, taking him in his mouth all the way to the root.

John's body arched and he cried out in delight. "Yes. Oh, just like that."

Greg hummed. He knew that on the average day, John far preferred their dalliances to be more like making love, Greg's cock buried deep as John rode him at a maddeningly steady pace, until he had them both panting, absolutely aching for release. But this - oh, Greg loved him when he was like this, so desperate for his touch that he wanted it hard and fast and _'more more ohGod **Greg!** more!'_

Yes, more. Oh sweet Jesus, he'd give all he had and then scrape his soul down to the barest glimmerings, just so he could kneel at John's feet and pass it all over. And for the first time, oh - he could see it reflected in John's face, that desire, no - that need - to give it all, expecting nothing in return. Greg could see it now, that hunger that Edward had described to him after their last encounter. John was indeed breathing him in like air and good Lord he loved him so much that he had to close his eyes and focus or else he would start crying and Jesus fuck there was nothing quite like a man blubbering over your cock to kill the mood tout _fucking_ suite.

So he closed his eyes and slid another finger in and smiled to himself as John cried out yet again and he opened his throat as wide as he could so his lover could rock his hips between his hand and mouth and take what he needed to get him there, hard and fast and _'fuck yes, Greg, press harder, yes love, oh God...'_ And then a strangled groan from above him as that tight little body tightened even further, as both legs came up to wrap around his head and John came, yes he did, filling Greg's mouth with spurt after spurt until he had to swallow or else make a bit of a mess of himself.

John's body quivered around him as Greg gently removed his fingers from his arse and then fought to break free from the rather restrictive prison of the thighs wrapped around his head. John laughed quietly and gave one more squeeze before placing his feet firmly on the ground. He reached down with his bound hands and grasped Greg's silver hair in both fists, bending down to kiss him quite cross-eyed. When they pulled away from each other, eyes wild and chests heaving, John nodded down slightly.

"Wrap that up and get up here already."

Greg reached for a condom even as his mind hesitated slightly. "John, are you sure?"

"Oh yes." He watched with glazed eyes and a wicked little smirk as Greg sheathed himself, hissing slightly at the contact. "Close, sweetheart?"

"I usually am after you fuck my mouth like that, John. _Jesus_ , what you do to me..." He ripped open another packet of lube and slicked himself up before discarding the soiled glove and getting to his feet with a quiet groan. He took a moment to cup John's jaw and bring him in for a gentle kiss, smiling as his bound hands scrabbled delicately through his chest hair. "Turn around."

John shuddered and groaned as he obeyed, once more reaching up for the bar above the door. He turned his head and pressed his cheek to the wood, moaning again as Greg took his hips in hand and positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock barely pressing in. "Yes, Greg. _Yes_."

Greg grunted and began to push his way into John's body slowly, gently. He usually took a bit longer to prep him properly before fucking him, but this time, John had popped off quite quickly, and as a result he was deliciously tight around him. So he took his time, forcing himself to continue to move through John's quiet whimpers. When he was seated fully, he leant up against John's body and nuzzled at his neck, feeling him internally adjusting to the intrusion in his arse. John sighed and circled his hips slightly. "Mm. Remind you of something?"

Greg growled and reached up to grab John's throat in his hand before burying his teeth into the join of neck and shoulder. "Our first time."

John gasped and moaned. " _Yes_ , oh yes. _More_ , Greg. Bite me, mark me. I know you love it - showing people that I belong to you. I want them to see, I want them to know..."

Greg growled again and bit harder before sucking deeply. He tightened his grip ever-so-slightly. "Shut up, you wicked little thing. Such a slut for me, aren't you? God, you love being filled with my fat cock, don't you?"

"Yes, oh _Greg_ \- yes. You fill me up so nicely, I'll _never_ get enough." He twisted awkwardly and placed a trembling kiss on Greg's cheek. "Never."

Another quiet snarl, and Greg shifted his grip on John's throat to his jaw, leaning in to kiss him properly as he withdrew slightly and then shoved his way back in roughly. John moaned into his mouth and then yelped as he did it again. Greg released his face and brought his hands down to grasp his hips firmly. "John?"

"Yes. Yes - _fuck me_ , Greg. Fuck me hard, make me scream..."

Greg closed his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead into John's shoulder. Oh, the things he wouldn't do for this man... So, yes, he braced his feet and grabbed John's hips and then he pulled out oh-so-slowly, leaving just the head of his cock buried before slamming his way back in hard and swift. John's voice quickly went hoarse as his breath was forced out of his throat with a loud cry at every thrust; mostly wordless or nonsensical, but sometimes with a _'yes'_ or  _'more'_ or _'harder'_ and Greg obliged him as best he could, until his bollocks pulled up tight and his knees trembled and he thrust in oh-so-deep as he sank his teeth into the nape of that lovely golden neck and stifled his own cry into his lover's flesh as the heat of his release rushed over him and through him and into John, twitching and pulsing and shuddering until his legs simply could not support him any longer.

He kept firm hold of John's body, pulling him down with him as they collapsed together, Greg going down on his knees and then sitting back on his heels as John slid down against the door, keeping them connected as best he could. Greg could only laugh at him, as his face was still mashed up against the wood awkwardly. John giggled in return and allowed Greg to wrap an arm around his torso and pull him upright against his chest. Greg hummed with pleasure as he noted that John was hard again, but as he started to reach for that wonderful cock, John hissed and smacked his hand away.

"Definitely too sensitive, Gregory." His voice was raspy and uneven, and Greg allowed himself a smug smile. 

"Oh, but Captain..."

"Later, when we get back to yours." John paused. "As long as we don't simply pass out once we get there, of course." He glanced over his shoulder. "In the meantime, I'd rather like to recover by getting ourselves situated on that sofa and snogging like bloody teenagers." 

"Mm." Greg nuzzled into the short hair on the nape of his neck. "I rather like that idea, Captain my Captain..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Greg, doing what they do best...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Couldn't resist, even though it's a short one - do tell me how I'm doing!

John huffed out a quiet burst of laughter as his neck broke out into gooseflesh. "Of course you do, Gregory. I know how much you adore it when I snog you utterly stupid."  
   
Greg growled low and wrapped his arms around John's chest, squeezing lightly as he nibbled on the scar tissue of his left shoulder. "Jesus, yes." He groaned as John shifted slightly on his lap, attempting to gather his legs underneath him. Greg bit his lip, humming tunelessly as he idly caressed the firm muscles under his hands.

John's body tensed, his legs quivered, and Greg wrapped his hands around his waist to assist him in his obvious bid for freedom, but his lover suddenly fell back against him, giggling madly. "Gregory, what have you done to me?"

" _Me_? Nothing I haven't done before, you silly thing."

"My legs disagree. They seem to be having a bit of difficulty holding me up. I can't..." John squirmed delightfully, making Greg moan in near anguish. "They won't.... Bloody _hell_!"

Greg began on his own set of giggles before taking firm hold of John's hips and lifting him bodily off his lap. John struggled slightly before remaining on his knees, his forehead lightly knocking against the wood of the door. He pressed his bound hands against it as Greg shifted behind him, getting to his own feet with relative ease. John settled back on his heels, blinking resentfully up at Greg as he blithely wandered around the small room, binning the soiled condom and perfunctorily wiping himself down with a dry flannel.

Then Greg smiled broadly as he crouched down in front of him, taking John's linked arms and placing them over his head. "Let's see if these old footballer's legs of mine have any magic left in 'em, eh?" John grimaced, but groaned in relief as Greg rose steadily to his feet, easily taking him along for the ride.

John smirked suddenly and swung his body, tilting his hips so that his legs came up to wrap around Greg's waist. The older man let out a startled squawk and staggered slightly as his hands came down to cradle John's posterior. His look of bewilderment dissolved into one of delight as he squeezed both firm globes hard, his tongue flickering out over his bottom lip as he moaned softly. "Christ. Your arse, John. Just - sweet Christ."

"And your legs, Gregory. Have I ever told you what the sight of a good solid thigh does to me?" John jerked his head imperiously. "To the sofa, noble steed." Greg snorted out a quiet laugh, but did as he was bade. John leant into the crook of his mount's neck as he was carried easily, and without protest. "Mm. Not even a wobble. Fuck, yes."

"It was only a couple of steps, John. I am in no way as fit as you are, you little fucker." Greg settled down on the sofa with a quiet sigh, waiting for his lover to unwind his legs from his waist and his arms from his neck before lying down on his back.  
   
John wriggled atop him, pushing himself up so he could look Greg in the face. "It was your legs that I noticed first, you know."

"What? Don't be daft. Before that wildly inappropriate hook-up in the pub toilet, you'd only ever seen me in suit trousers. Hardly the most revealing garment out there, John."

"No, I'm serious. It was that first night - the cabbie case. When you were at the flat, oh so casually reclining in Sherlock's armchair, invading his space like the big bloody alpha dog that you are. Your legs were crossed, and I could barely keep my eyes off the incredibly promising curve of your thigh. I just knew what was under that rumpled suit, knew that I wanted to see it. That I needed to see it. You were entirely too tantalising - God, I had to fight myself to keep from just reaching out and feeling you up!"

Greg swallowed as he blinked up into John's face, his slate-blue eyes a little distant as he recalled his thoughts of a few months back. "You noticed me that first night? Really?" John nodded silently, his eyes dropping shyly as his fingers combed through Greg's chest hair. Greg tweaked his nose lightly. "Me too."

John looked up, his cheeks adorably pink. "When?"

Greg laughed at himself. "When do you think? When you went all stiff and military on poor Sherlock, of course." John grinned suddenly. "Damn near went stiff myself."

John chuckled. "And then we danced around each other for far too long, like the stupid fools that we are." He hesitated and then dipped his head, whispering in Greg's ear as if he were imparting a secret. "Later, I would replay that night in my head, you know. I would imagine that after Sherlock left and you had chased your team out, that you cuffed me, got me down on my knees and made me suck you off."

" _Guh_."

"Quite the wank fodder. I tried not to think of that one too often though, because it got me off too quickly."

Greg moaned as John wriggled against him. "There were more?"

"Oh, Gregory. So many, many more."

Greg bit his lip as he ran his fingers through John's tawny hair, down his fine, strong neck, along his collarbone and down his arms, finally coming to rest on the leather cuffs that were still securely buckled around his wrists. John smirked slightly as Greg's cock twitched against his backside. His slate-blue eyes took on a naughty little gleam as he rolled his hips in a wide circle.

Greg gasped, his head tilting back against the sofa cushion. " _Mm_. Tart. Maybe I'll have to take you in. Solicitation, I should think..."

John's smirk widened, even as he tried to bat his lashes innocently. "Oh, but Constable, sir..."

"Nope." It was John's turn to gasp as Greg surged upwards, deftly unlatching the chain as he pushed his 'prisoner' into the back of the sofa, swiftly but gently bringing his arms around behind his back and re-attaching the cuffs. John struggled briefly, more surprised at the speed that Greg had employed than at the actual action that he had taken. "Gonna have to pull you in, sweetheart." He got to his feet behind John, allowing him to settle down on his heels as he tipped his lover's head back against his sternum. "Unless..." Greg smiled salaciously as he ran his thumb over John's pink lips. "Well... You do have a _very_ pretty mouth, after all..."

John shivered with delight. "Perhaps we could come to some arrangement, my dear Constable."

Greg hummed his approval as he turned away, helping John to slide backwards off the sofa and to his feet. He retrieved the folded towel and tossed it onto the floor in front of the sofa before pulling John in for a deep, probing kiss. "Oh, yes - that is a lovely mouth. How much do you usually charge the blokes on the street for the privilege of using it at will?" John blushed furiously, but did not answer. "Well, never mind. It's not like I'll be pulling out my wallet for the likes of you, little whore." John's body jerked hard and Greg winked at him. His lips pursed for just a moment, and John smiled up at him softly. "How's the shoulder?"

John gave his left arm a little twitch. "Good, yeah..."

"And this?" Greg tapped on John's forehead lightly, his face serious even as his dark eyes twinkled.

John knew that Greg was referring to his little breakdown earlier, and his smile widened even as his blush deepened. "You really do have an innate sense for this sort of thing, you know." Greg blushed in return, his lips twisting in bemusement. "Fine. I'm fine, my lovely Constable Lestrade. I will let you know if it gets to be too much. I promise."

Greg grinned as John's eyes raked over his body, his eyes slowly going black as his own prick twitched and began to fill out. "Oh dear, you are a helpless, wanton thing, aren't you? Just the thought of swallowing me down has that lovely cock of yours waking up... Too bad I have no intentions of reciprocating, hm?" Greg winked as John slowly shook his head, rolling his eyes in amusement. He hummed vaguely as Greg took his arm above the elbow, and obediently folded his legs as his lover guided him to kneel on the folded towel. "Such a pretty picture you make, my little slut." Greg settled down in front of the kneeling figure, spreading his legs wide as he gestured to his florid cock. "Get on with it, then. Make it worth my while."

John licked his lips, smiling crookedly. Greg smirked back, knowing that he was trying to determine just how to play it, whether as an innocent man being wrongfully accused, or as the tarty little rent-boy that 'Constable Lestrade' had taken him for... He shivered slightly as John's eyes travelled down his torso and lit upon his weeping cock, widening with delight and maybe just a tiny bit of avarice. Oh, so it was to be the tart, then. John hummed low as he scooted just a bit closer, shuffling on his knees as Greg slouched down just a touch to meet his eager mouth. John focused his whole attention on Greg's crotch, his lips quirking up as his lovely thick cock twitched under his scrutiny.

"Oi, _whore_. You don't want me getting impatient, now do you? It looks like a bit of fun now, but imagine how it will feel if I have to take matters into my own hands..."

"I've taken more substantial men in my mouth than the likes of you, Constable." Greg's eyes narrowed dangerously, and John quickly realised his error, ducking his head down to avoid a potential confrontation, swirling his tongue around the deeply flushed head with a little flourish. "Oh, but none of them were quite as _tasty_..." He chased the slow trickle of pre-come that was wending its way down to the root, sticking out his lower lip and dragging it all the way up. He locked eyes with his mark as his lips closed over the glans and sucked, ever so gently. Greg hissed out a short breath, the muscles in his belly jumping as he struggled to keep his body still. John pulled off briefly, nuzzling down into the thick thatch of curls surrounding his prize, nosing around Greg's soft bollocks. Greg spread his legs even further and cautiously threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of John's head. He didn't try to hold him down though, just massaged him gently.

John hummed low, his chest rumbling with something almost resembling a purr as he licked and sucked and nibbled all around Greg's sack, finally placing a firm but gentle bite at the root of his cock. Greg threw his head back with a wanton moan, and seemingly as a reward, John bobbed up and took as much of his length in his mouth as he could, giving him a nice solid pull with his tongue. An almost silent hiss from the man above him, and John glanced up, noticing that Greg had his teeth buried in his lip to hold back his cries. Well, that just wouldn't do, would it? So he pulled off again, darting his tongue out to touch here and there with barely any pressure or friction. Greg squirmed as his fingers tightened in John's hair, another moan breaking free at the tiniest bit of suction, right along the slit. Again, John rewarded him with another solid pull, and Greg quickly got it, opening his mouth and letting loose with a loud groan. Oh, that was more like it... Greg's cries spurred John on, until he was bobbing up and down with a steady rhythm, his own neglected prick throbbing and jolting with every motion. He snugged up to the sofa and started rubbing against it, a swift sob of relief resonating in his chest.

Greg gasped out a harsh breath and tightened his hold even further, beginning to thrust upwards in short sharp jerks. "St-stop that. You've done well, whore. I won't neglect you, I pr-promise." John moaned around his abundant mouthful of flesh, and tensed his body, stopping it from giving in to the need to rut against something, anything. "Yes, oh yes, f-fuck me... _John_!" The muscles in Greg's thighs jumped and quivered, as his stomach tensed and then, well, he rather lost control of his finer motor impulses, so then he did indeed hold John down as he thrust deep and came down that lovely throat as it opened wide for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing dirty adventures of Greg and John...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor trigger warning, perhaps not needed if you've been following along. Greg keeps playing on the 'rent-boy' theme here, so there is some slightly demeaning language. All meant in play, of course, so please don't accuse our hero of slut-shaming or anything of the sort...
> 
> :) This popped out of my head in its' entirety today, and I'm rather pleased with it, so I'm going to go ahead and post it. I'm hoping that the swiftness and (what I see as) quality foreshadows good things for some other parts of my saga, that perhaps my muse is feeling optimistic about getting some more stuff out there this week. We shall see.
> 
> In the meantime, please enjoy, and please let me know what you think. As always, comments are life-blood, and my muse seems to be a vampire. Keep her fed, my lovelies! Glut that hideous appetite of hers and perhaps you shall be rewarded with more dirty, dirty scribblins'!
> 
> TTFN! ;-p
> 
> *mwah!*

John shook his head slightly as Greg started to come down from his orgasmic high, jostling his hands loose from where they had been grasping him close. With barely a pause for breath, he surged onto his feet and then quickly straddled the figure slumped down on the sofa, rutting against his belly as he crushed their mouths together. Greg came back into himself with a quiet grunt, his arms wrapping firmly around the body that was jouncing and jolting against him. With a quiet growl he licked the stickiness off of John's face and nipped at his lower lip.  
   
"Yes, a lovely mouth indeed. And quite talented, too. Whatever you charge, little whore, I wager it's nowhere near enough." John breathed out a quiet laugh and tried to go for his neck, but Greg quickly reached behind and grabbed at the chain holding the cuffs together, pulling it and thus his arms away and down.  
   
John suddenly found himself unable to reach anything to rub up against, and he whined in frustration as his cock bobbed up and down futilely, leaking profusely. "But, Gre-" The older man cleared his throat and gave him a stern look, along with a warning tug on the cuffs. John shook himself, trying to focus beyond his overwhelming need to just get _off_ already. "C-constable sir - you s-said..." He whined again, his body trembling at Greg's low rumble of approval. "Said you'd take care of me. You promised."  
   
"I did, and I will. But I just have to get a good look at you first, tart. Such a slutty little thing, and you're just lovely when you're desperate like this. Absolutely gagging for any man to touch you, aren't you? Sure, you'll let them pay for the privilege, but you need it just as bad as they do, don't you? God, what I wouldn't give to feel you wriggling around like this impaled on my cock... Bet you want it too, don't you, whore?" John gasped and threw his head back, rolling his hips against nothing but air. "Yeah, thought so. Maybe I'll just have to drag your pretty arse home with me. Take you for a ride or two free of charge, _hm_?"  
   
John moaned again as he nodded. "Anything, God yes, anything you want. Please - just..." His entire body shuddered, top to toe and back again. "Please, Constable..."  
   
Greg bit his lip and then grinned wickedly. "Of course..." John gasped again as his waist was clutched in a firm grip and Greg wrestled them both off the sofa. He set John on his feet and released his hold on the chain. He pointed to the edge of the sofa. "Kneel there. Spread those fine legs of yours and wait for me."  
   
"Yes, sir." John shook himself out briefly and then did as he was told, situating himself to Greg's liking. Once 'Constable Lestrade' had nodded decisively and headed back toward that damned wardrobe, John started to take deep breaths in and out, attempting to regain some control of his body. Greg glanced back at him once or twice as he rummaged, smiling pleasantly once he found something suitable for his intent. He held it up for John's perusal as he approached, and the smaller man nodded vigorously. Greg grinned again and quickly tested it, twisting the dial on the base of the vibrator until he was sure that it functioned properly. Then he sorted through their small pile of supplies, ripping open a condom and then a packet of lube in quick succession.  
   
John shivered with delight as Greg stepped behind him and to the side, a quick ripple of gooseflesh cascading down his spine as he heard the click of the vibrator being turned on. There was a gentle nip at his shoulder, and a warm hand on his hip. Greg hummed in his ear, blowing a light gust of breath over his neck. "You may brace yourself against the back of the sofa, but otherwise, you are not to move. Do you understand me, little whore?" John bit his lip and whimpered, but nodded curtly. He angled his torso forward, until his forehead was resting on the top edge of the back of the sofa. "Good. I like that you're so obedient. It's going to make things so much _easier_ for me later..." The tip of the barely-buzzing toy was placed at his hole, circling lightly. "Wider." John grunted and placed his knees even farther apart, wiggling slightly to get himself settled in. "That's it. You just have to imagine me in between those lovely thighs of yours, don't you?" The smooth toy was pressed in, just beyond the very tip, the gentle vibrations against and within John's hole almost driving him to madness. He whimpered quietly and forced his body to go utterly still. "Oh yes. Remember the feel of my prick in your mouth, imagine that filling up this pretty pink hole of yours. Bet you go down on just about anybody with the cash, but this - oh." Another half-inch or so, another quiet whine. "Bet only the posh clients get access to _this_. The ones who can really afford to lay down some serious notes. Or maybe they just buy you pretty things, yeah? Do you live in some little rats' nest, or has one of your sugar daddies set you up with a nice flat, hm?" John made an indeterminate noise and tried to dip his spine, subtly angling his arse to try and take the toy in a little deeper. Greg chuckled darkly and withdrew it slightly, nipping at his skin as John groaned in disappointment. "Does he know that you bring your johns to his little love-nest, my pretty slut? That you roll around with those dirty bastards in those pristine white sheets that he bought you, that the crusty funk that gets left behind isn't all from his privileged prick? Does he think that you're his and nobody else's?"

"Constable, please..." John's legs trembled under the strain of keeping still, and Greg hummed quietly as he tucked himself in closer, wrapping one broad hand around the taut muscle of his thigh and running it up and down gently. "Oh, _please_."

"Tell me, whore. I want to know if he thinks that you belong to him and him alone. I want to know if you tell him that he's special as you're bending over for him, I want to know if he leaves you money on the bureau as he dresses himself to go back to his wife. I want to know - does he call you his dove, his pet, his precious love?"

"Yes! He d-does. All that and more..."

"Poor deluded fool. You tell him he's special, that he means the world to you, and then you take his money and laugh behind his back as you fuck around with your high-class clients in the luxurious bed that he paid for. And it's still not enough, is it, tart? No, you still have to walk the streets, don't you? Still have to skulk around in alleys and drop to your knees for any masher that happens to wave a tenner in your face. You knew that you'd get picked up sooner or later, din't you? Hell, you probably counted on it. It's the danger, the risk, in't it? Makes that rush all the sweeter, yeah? Just about blows the top of your head off, knowing that at any moment, someone with a badge might come round that corner, hear you sucking off some random by the rubbish bins."

"Ohh, God... Yes. Yes, it does. Feels so _good_."

Greg kicked the vibe up a notch, pressing it in just a tiny bit deeper. He grinned wickedly and continued to bite delicately at John's arm, relishing in the feel of his tight little body trembling against him. "Thought so. Good thing it was me that found you tonight, sweetheart. Good thing I saw you for what you were and decided to give you a chance to see the error of your ways, yeah? I think that maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement, don't you?" He hummed and ducked in for a quick lick along John's spine, laughing when he arched into him and gasped aloud. The toy slid in a little more. "Oh yes. You keep your sugar daddy, because I know you have to make a living somehow, and I'm sure as hell not going to pay you anything. You keep your posh clients, because I don't care who you make a fool out of, as long as it's not me. But you get the urge to go down on your knees to just anyone, you come find me instead. You get that urge to just be a nasty dirty slut, you come whore yourself out to me. I am the only one that will have you that way. Are we clear?"

"Y-yes sir. _Anything_. Just - please."

"Oh, I do love that voice. That pitiful, pleading, whiny voice. _Mm_. I hope to hear much more of it when we get back to mine. This is just a prelude, in't it? Just a little taste of what's to come. This lovely tight arse of yours will be quite loose by the time I'm done with you. How will you explain that to him, whore? When he reaches down to work you open for that inadequate cock of his and finds you already quite thoroughly fucked? What will you say?"

"T-that I was thinking of him, that I couldn't wait. That I fucked myself on a toy and came again and again, thinking of him."

"Oh, he'll just eat that up, won't he? His eyes will go all soft and gooey and he'll be so hard for you, my lovely slut. And then you'll slide down on that stupid little cock and you'll make such the pretty picture for him, won't you? You'll throw your head back and expose that beautiful neck and you'll ride him nice and slow as he digs his stupid fat fingers into your golden flesh. Oh, yes, you'll ride him like the expert that you are, and you'll think of the money that he'll leave behind. But you'll be thinking of something else too, won't you?" John nodded eagerly, his fingers clutching at nothing behind his back. "What, whore - what will you be thinking of?"

John gasped, raising his head slightly. "You! Oh God - you. You and your gorgeous thick cock... Pounding into me, opening me up further than I've ever been, making me scream. You, only _you_."

"Yes." Greg rammed the toy all the way in, flicking it up another notch as John groaned and stiffened against him. "Me. Only me. When you're with him, when you're with any of them. You belong to _me_ now, you hear me, whore?" He began to thrust the vibrator into John's willing and eager body in long, steady strokes.

John bit his lip as he fell forward into the back of the sofa, spreading his legs even further as he braced his right shoulder against it hard. "Yes, you. Tonight I'm gonna ride him, and I'm going to be thinking of _you_ and Jesus I'm going to come so fast because I won't be able to hold myself back. And he'll think it's because of him, but he'll be wrong. So, so wrong... Oh, _fuck_ yes..."

Greg rewarded him for this, going two notches up and increasing the pace of his thrusts. "Wish I could see it. Wish I could see you plying your trade, conning that poor fool out of his cash and his heart. All for the sake of this sweet little arse..." Greg stopped moving the toy, leaving it where it was for the moment, laughing brightly at John's sharp gasp of shock. He lifted his hand and gave John's left cheek a swift smack, quickly resuming fucking him with the toy before his arse had even stopped jiggling.

" _Ngh_. God. Please, sir. Touch me, please." John turned his head and threw a desperate glance over his shoulder, even as he tried to prevent his hips from moving, which was obviously a battle that he was swiftly going to lose. "Please. Prove that I belong to you. Touch me. Make me come for you. Please."

Greg snorted and twisted the dial again. "You are impertinent and demanding and you should be taught a lesson in manners, slut. But yes, you are mine, and I always take care of my possessions. And I did promise, after all. One thing that you should know about me, whore, is that I never renege on my promises. And I expect the same from you. If I find that you have broken your word to me, the repercussions will be swift and painful. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely. _Please_ , oh please..." 

"Are you mine?"

John practically sobbed as the toy was boosted yet another notch, and Greg withdrew it slowly, only to shove it back in hard, and then out again, oh so slowly. "Yes! Yes, I _promise_. I am yours - only yours!"

Greg growled with satisfaction and wrapped his hand around John's throbbing cock, holding the toy steady with his other hand. "Then _move_ , whore. Fuck yourself and come for me." John's hips began rocking in short frantic motions, his bollocks pulling up almost immediately. "That's it. Mark me with your come, my pretty little slut. You're mine, yes. All _mine_." His fist tightened as John thrust into it, and he angled the toy ever so slightly forward, making sure it brushed against his prostate on every trembling stroke. "Course that means I'm yours too, doesn't it?" A startled choking noise swiftly elevated to a loud cry as John rocked and shuddered and clenched down hard, his cock spurting out over Greg's hand and the back of the sheet-covered sofa. Greg grinned wickedly as he pressed the toy in deeper and slowly but firmly squeezed John's perfect cock from root to tip, once, twice, and then a third time. Each touch of his hand milked out another gentle spurt, another violent jerk of that tight golden body, another loud, pleasured cry.

Greg pulled the wildly vibrating toy out of John's arse, dialling it down into silence as he released his cock and wiped his hand off on the sheet. John just panted, his body still hunched over the sofa awkwardly, his body still jolting with the occasional aftershock. With a quiet chuckle, Greg unhooked the chain on the cuffs and then collected him, grasping his limp frame under the knees and shoulders and laying him down on his side. John blinked up at him dazedly, a stupid little grin on his face. Greg settled down at his side on the floor, making sure that his naked bum was fully protected from the rather suspicious flooring with the folded towel. John reached out a wobbly arm to run his trembling fingers through his hair to his neck, just stroking him gently.

"You are a filthy, disgusting man, Gregory Lestrade. A proper pervert. I fucking  _adore_ you."

Greg blushed and shrugged lightly. "You played along, din't you?"

" _Pff_. What choice did I have?"

Greg cupped John's jaw with one broad hand, running his thumb over his pink lips. "You always have a choice, John. Always."

John blinked at him, his mouth parted slightly. "Come _here_." Greg allowed himself to be pulled into a truly toe-curling snog, both men caressing exposed skin with gentle if urgent touches. They hummed and licked and nipped at each other, until Greg found his head being pulled into John's chest, his eyes closing in bliss as he listened to his lover's steady heartbeat. John draped his arm around his shoulder and idly ran his fingers in almost maddeningly light circles around his upper arm, and Greg shivered delightfully. They both jumped suddenly as their shared afterglow was violently interrupted by a rather loud banging on the door.

"Occupied! Fuck off!" John giggled quietly as Greg huffed in annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain possibilities are entertained as the boys get chucked out for the night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse is really feeling the Greg/John vibes this week, so here we have yet another chapter. More smuttiness to come once Officer Lestrade gets rent-boy John back to his - yay!
> 
> Please do comment - let me know how I'm doing.
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies!
> 
> (Translations for Geoff's dialogue available [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3859345/chapters/8618995))

"Time tae vacate, mucker!"   
   
Greg rolled his eyes as John continued to giggle, lightly running his hand down his back and giving him a swift pinch under the arm. Greg jumped and growled, snapping his teeth at John's nose playfully. After a moment, there was another flurry of blows raining down on the insubstantial door, making it shake in its foundation. Greg let out a noise of pure frustration before struggling to his feet and stomping over to it. He swiftly unlocked it and threw it open unceremoniously, revealing the burly barman standing on the other side, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. There was a small gaggle of young men clustered behind him, all tittering with excitement. They let out little gasps of appreciation, noises of delight and even a wolf-whistle or two as Greg spread his stance and mimicked Geoff's posture, arms crossed over his chest, a substantial scowl on his face.  
   
John, who had swiftly rolled over onto his belly in a somewhat futile attempt to keep the barest minimum of his dignity intact, pushed himself up on his elbows. "Enough, Gregory. I never said anything about a free show, for fuck's sake." Geoff looked at him over Greg's shoulder, blushing mightily at seeing his glorious arse on full display. John shook his head and then his eyes suddenly dropped to slightly below waist-level, narrowing dangerously. "Oi! _Mine_ , you little tit!" Greg shuddered slightly, his eyes fluttering at the barked tone of command, the note of possessiveness in John's voice.  
   
Geoff glanced down to see that one of the more enterprising of the young men had crouched behind him, and was attempting to snake an arm around the burly barman, reaching out for one of Greg's solid thighs. Greg skipped back with a little yelp as just the tips of the stranger's fingers made contact, and Geoff turned and bellowed at them all, sounding rather like an angry bear. They scattered with sharp yells of delight and even sharper giggles, waving merrily at the duo over the Scotsman's bald head. Greg sighed heavily as he pulled Geoff into the room and once again locked the door.  
   
"Gregory, what did I just say?"  
   
Greg frowned slightly. "This one's seen it before."  
   
"He hasn't seen _me_ , you inconsiderate git! Not like this, anyhow..." Greg's mouth fell open as he blinked at his lover sheepishly. Geoff snorted at him and reached out to smack him solidly on the back of the head before resolutely turning his back on the room, staring at the blank wall as though it held the wonders of the universe. "Thank you, Geoff." John frowned at Greg as he ruefully rubbed at his abused skull and began to pick up scattered bits of clothing. "At least your mate there has some manners." He sat up as Greg shuffled back over the sofa, his head hanging low as he handed over John's pants and jeans.  
   
Greg kept his head lowered as John looked up at him expectantly. "I am sorry, John. That was very thoughtless and rather rude of me."  
   
John sighed quietly as he stood and held out his wrists, his head tilting as Greg worked the buckles on the leather cuffs loose. "Oh, it's all right. You just forget that not everybody likes prancing around as bare as the day they were born, you ridiculous man. I don't care about those simpering fools out in the hallway, I'm pretty sure that they were distracted enough by your posturing that they didn't see much of me." He nodded at Geoff's broad back slightly as he slipped his pants back on, quickly following them up with his jeans. "But he's different, sweetheart."  
   
Greg quirked one eyebrow. "In what way?"  
   
Geoff cast a glance over his shoulder, his face turning down slightly as he took note of John's jeans being securely buttoned. John smiled as he nodded, and the barman turned around to face the room again. "I don't know, not exactly. I just don't like the idea of teasing him, for some reason." He ducked his head, staring down at his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. "I think that maybe someday..." Geoff bit his lip to hold back a quiet moan, and John looked back up again, his slate-blue eyes sparkling. "Maybe. But not now. It's too early still, we're too new."  
   
Greg frowned as he sank down onto the sofa, his head turning between the two men. "But then why..."  
   
"Edward?"  
   
"Yeah."  
   
John shrugged. "You have a bit of a past with him, yeah, but you don't really have a connection, do you? I do believe that he loves you, but it's his own particular type of selfish, whiny little bastard kind of love. The kind of love that doesn't deserve to be returned." Geoff snorted again, and John turned a bright smile on him before clearing his throat. "And as for the way you feel about Edward, well - you obviously enjoy getting fucked by him, but there's no real affection there. Not anymore." He shrugged again before looking between the Scotsman and his lover. "You two are different. You're mates, you care for each other in a different sort of way. I just... I'm just not confident enough yet. Someday - _maybe_... But definitely not yet, and it's not fair to him to dangle that possibility in his face and give him little peepshows and the like without having any reassurances to offer."  
   
Geoff rocked back on his heels slightly as he put a hand to his mouth, biting down gently on one meaty finger. Greg looked up and smirked at him, trying to not let his imagination travel too far, as he was still completely nude, and there would be no disguising his reaction. Instead he stood and took John's face in both hands and planted a solid kiss on his lips. "You are remarkable." John hummed in pleasure and went up on his toes, his arms slipping around Greg's waist as he responded in kind.  
   
Geoff let them carry on in that manner for perhaps just a bit longer than he probably should have, but after a couple of minutes of soft, quiet murmurs and indiscriminately wandering hands, he cleared his throat loudly and then burst into explosive giggles as the two men pushed away from each other in startled surprise. "Ye bludy weel forgot Ah was e'en haur, ye randy bastards." John blushed as Greg scowled fiercely, scanning the room for his own jeans so he could tuck away the considerable nuisance that was beginning to wake up yet again. "Ach. Still as brammer as ever, Greggy. Yoo're a lucky, lucky cheil, John. Ah've seen mony a braw prick in mah day, but 'at one thaur is still one ay th' loveliest 'at Ah've ever hud th' pleasure ay knowin'."

John quirked one eyebrow, attempting to arrange his expression into one of severe disapproval, but he couldn't prevent one corner of his mouth from turning up. "And just how well did you happen to 'know' my boyfriend's cock, dare I ask?"

Greg let out a sharp bark of laughter as Geoff turned utterly red. He slithered into his jeans and tucked himself away carefully before striding over to him and giving his tartan-clad arse a solid smack. The barman jumped and tried to turn a fierce expression on the silver-haired man, but with one saucy wink, his stern look dissolved and he burst into giggles again.  
   
"John, this magnificent _beast_ of a man who is even now standing before you - giggling like a six year old child, mind you... This is the first man who was willing and oh-so-eager to bend over for me. The man who talked me through it all with incredible patience, although if I recall correctly, near the end there he got a bit bossy..."

John grinned as he smoothed his tee down over his torso. "Pushy bottom, eh?"

" _Mm_." Greg's eyes went a little distant as he wrapped an arm around the burly man's waist. "Needy, more like. Greedy, even." Geoff's arm tightened from where it had settled over Greg's shoulders, and he seemed to hold his breath. "Oh, you begged _so_ nicely, my lovely Jock."  
   
" _Nghk_."

Greg abruptly came back from the past with a tiny jolt, as his own shirt smacked him in the chest and fell to the floor. He ducked down to retrieve it, laughing quietly as he heard Geoff suck in air with a loud whoosh and begin to breathe normally again. He felt his cheeks heat as John looked between the two men with amusement.

"That. That right there is what I'm talking about. There's no way I could let you two loose on each other. Not right now." Both Greg and Geoff stammered apologies as John joined them, but he just waved away their incoherent mumbles. He fussed over the placement of Greg's shirt for a moment and then turned and pulled Geoff down for a big wet smack on the cheek. "And _you_. Well, I just have to thank you for setting our Gregory down a certain path, don't I? Believe me, I am very, very appreciative of your efforts."

"Ach, thes Ah ken, mucker."

"Um." Greg narrowed his eyes. "How's that, mate?"

"Weel, 'at's wa Ah came tae chuck ye it. First ay aw, ye ken 'at yoo're only supposed tae hae th' room fur an hoor, an' it's bin twice 'at an' 'en some." John bit his lip as Greg glanced at his watch in surprise. "An' - weel - th' walls ur thin, ye ken? Th' doors arenae much better. Yer wee performances waur attractin' quite th' crowd an' th' corridur was gettin' aw jammed up. Nae guid fur fire codes an' aw 'at, sae Ah hud tae keep comin' back haur tae clear them aw aff..."

Geoff cleared his throat quietly as Greg grinned wickedly. "Right. And how many of those times did you happen to stick around to make sure it stayed clear?"

Another swift burst of colour ran up the barman's face. "Mebbe ance ur - erm - twice."

John chuckled softly, even though he had gone nearly as red as Geoff was at this point. "Or more, eh? And how long were you out there before you tried to knock the bloody door in?"

"O-only abit ten ur - um - fifteen minutes?" The Scotsman tilted one shoulder in a half-arsed shrug. "Mebbe?"

John's voice dropped to a harsh whisper as his eyes widened comically. "How many were out there with you?"

Geoff giggled again. "Aw ay them, Ah hink. At one point ur anither, anyway."

"Christ. Oh sweet buggering _Jesus_..." The smaller man hastily shoved his feet into his trainers and dragged Greg back to the sofa, pushing him down and tossing his boots at him unceremoniously. "Is there a back way out of this place?"

Geoff stifled a grin and nodded. "Aye, mucker. Jist..."

A dark, breathy chuckle interrupted him as Greg stood once again, feet properly clad. John blanched slightly as dark smouldering eyes captured his, twinkling with more than just a bit of evil glee. "Oh, no, my little tart. You _wanted_ to put on a show, remember?"

"But Gre..." The older man tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. John's breath caught in his chest even as a swift rush of heat flooded his body. He resolutely did not look over at the silent witness to their naughty little game as he straightened slightly and ducked his chin. "Constable." There was a low, bitten-off moan, and John flushed hotly, almost convinced he could feel the burly barman's equally blazing countenance from across the bloody room. "I - I didn't really expect anyone would be listening! It was just, just..."

"A dirty little idea, a way to flatter me and gain my approval - to suggest that I might be a prize to be lorded over other men's heads. You thought that it would perhaps puff up my ego and convince me to go easy on you. Or hard on you, as the case may be." He grinned easily, a wicked promise being made in nothing more than the curve of his lips and tip of his tongue. "But now, my lovely slut, now you will learn that your words have _consequences_." Greg stalked toward him quietly, circling him once and pressing up against his back. John shuddered and dropped his head, leaving the back of his neck exposed. Greg hummed in approval and licked a wet stripe from nape to hairline, rubbing against him hard as he grasped at his waist. "Consequences that will be felt in full when we get back to mine. That's a promise, tart. And as you know..."

"You never break your word." John smirked as he lifted his head and turned in Greg's arms, once again going up on his toes to fully show his appreciation. "I'm looking forward to it, Constable sir..."

Greg knocked his legs apart with one foot and swiftly inserted a knee, pulling the smaller man tight to his body and grinding his solid thigh into his groin, against the promising hardness of him. John went a little limp, throwing his head back as he moaned wantonly. "Oh, I'm well aware, whore." There was another strangled noise from across the room, and Greg smirked as John giggled quietly. "But for now, it's time to leave our lovely host to take care of a minor issue that seems to have come up and fight our way through the admiring crowd, in't that right?" He chucked John under the chin gently. "Keep your head up, Captain. Take their accolades to heart as well as their jealousy. You've earned it, and you _know_ that there isn't a single man out there that could turn my head or make me feel the way that you do."

John blinked up at him solemnly, his face softening. "Greg, I..." The silver-haired man felt the bottom drop out of his stomach ever-so-slightly as John bit his lip uncertainly. "I..." A soft scuffling sound from across made him drop his eyes and Greg sighed quietly as John tucked himself even further into the curve of his body.

He pressed a light kiss to the top of John's tawny head and sighed again. "Yeah." Greg winked at Geoff, who was looking absolutely stricken at the idea that he had possibly interrupted something tender between the two men. "No worries, mate." He let his eyes travel up and down the burly body and smiled wickedly before releasing John and turning him around abruptly. "Let's get shut of this place, yeah?" With his mouth to John's ear, Greg kept his eyes fixed on the Scotsman's face. "Would it be all right if I gave my mate there a bit of a boost to help him with his little problem?" His gaze flickered down and then back up again as the pattern of the tartan twitched minutely.

Geoff bit his bottom lip hard at their combined scrutiny, and John turned his head to murmur low in Greg's ear. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Greg lowered his voice as well, smirking as Geoff cocked his head, obviously trying to make out what they were saying. " _Mm_. A bit of a snog, perhaps? Maybe a little arse-grab?"

John narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, his own gaze tripping over the obvious tenting at the barman's crotch, the shockingly red face and tightly clenched fists. "Minimal body contact, Gregory. You can touch above his shoulders, absolutely nothing below the waist. Tongue is permitted, but don't draw it out too long. Like I said, I don't like the idea of teasing the poor man."

"Oh, yes." Greg released John, giving him a little smack on the arse as he detoured back to the sofa, snagging a rogue packet of lube that lay amongst the unused supplies that were scattered over the rumpled sheet. Geoff swallowed visibly as he approached, actually retreating a step or two away, coming up against the wall next to the door with a bit of a thump. Greg lifted one of his hands and put the packet into it before gently manipulating Geoff's arms so that they were tucked up behind his back, trapped in between his body and the wall. The silver-haired man grinned as he cupped the back of the Scotsman's neck, bringing him in for a heated kiss. Geoff's gaze darted over to John for just a moment, but as Greg flickered his tongue out over his bottom lip, his eyes rolled back in his head and he simply gave himself over, moaning low in his throat as he parted his lips and allowed his mucker to take a quite thorough taste. He slumped down against the wall for support as Greg released him, his knees having gone a bit wobbly. Greg hummed quietly. "Oh yes, my lovely, _lovely_ Jock." He pressed a kiss to one cheek, and then to the other. "Won't take long, will it?" He ran his fingers over his shiny bald head and around the curve of his ear, tweaking the lobe gently. "No... You just think of maybe. Think of someday, yeah? Oh, then it won't take long _at all_."

"Gregory." John licked his lips as Greg glanced over at him, his cheeks nicely pink. He was obviously affected by Greg's little display, but was also clearly anxious to get the next five minutes over and done with as soon as possible.

Greg nodded. "Yes, Captain my Captain." He reached out to run one finger along Geoff's lips and then down his neck before turning away. "Oh, _yes_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geoff plays a little game of his own, and Greg stops Edward from doing...something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tralala! I didn't expect to have anything to post this week, as my past weekend was a bit of a kerfuffle, but here I am! 
> 
> As always, I would love to hear what everyone thinks, so please do comment!
> 
> Kisses, my darlings...

The barman took in a great gasping breath as the two men left the room together, shutting the door firmly behind them. Greg paused in the hallway to reach out for John's hand, but as he took a step toward the club, the smaller man tugged on him gently. With a small but decidedly naughty grin that made Greg's thoughts stutter in his head, he plastered himself up against the door, putting his ear to the gap.  
   
Greg rolled his eyes even as his lips curved upward, almost against his will. "Dirty little bastard."  
   
John shushed him with a frantic wave of his hand and pulled him closer as he crouched a bit lower, leaving room for Greg to do the same. "Turnabout's fair play and all that. C'mere." From the sound of it, the poor tormented man hadn't hesitated at all, as the beguiling noises of a slick hand on an even slicker cock came drifting out through the cracks. John bit his lip as there was an indistinct grunt and the whispered sound of clothing sliding down the wall next to the door, as Geoff sank to his knees.  
   
Greg eyed the smaller man wickedly before hunching down close to whisper in his ear. "He's built a bit like me, y'know. Maybe just a tad less substantial, but still, quite the generous handful..." John's eyes flickered up to his briefly, a pleasant blush blooming high on his cheeks. "Picture that if you would, my greedy little slut. You entertaining the both of us, our nice thick pricks keeping each hand fully occupied, yeah?" He tilted his head as if deep in thought. "Oh, but we wouldn't want that talented mouth of yours to go to waste, would we?" Greg sighed softly. "Oh no, what a treat it would be for my lovely Jock to see you on your knees..." John made an indiscriminate choking noise, putting the heel of his hand to his mouth to stifle it. He leaned heavily against the door as his thighs wobbled, and let himself drop to a kneeling position as Greg grinned down at him lasciviously. "Oh _yes_ \- just like that. So needy and desperate to feel us on your tongue. Course, you wouldn't be able to take the both of us at the same time, so we'd end up making quite the mess out of you, wouldn't we?" Greg reached out to run his hand up over the taut muscle of John's thigh, humming with contentment as he let out a barely audible moan. The heavy breathing on the other side of the door came to an abrupt halt, the heady  _slapslapslap_ of hand on cock increasing exponentially. Greg grinned again as he ducked down to nibble on John's earlobe. "He does that. Holds his breath just before he spurts like a goddamn geyser. His face goes completely white too - freaked me out a bit the first time I saw it. Oh, but then - when that lovely cock jumped in my hand and he let fly over that fucking fantastic fur coat of his - oh, I nearly came again myself it was so beautiful." This time John could not hold back his groan, but the lusty sound was overridden by that of Geoff's release, a loud, rolling moan that seemed to just go on and on.

John panted quietly as Greg slowly and deliberately pressed the flat of his palm against the obvious bulge in his lover's jeans. He grabbed Greg's wrist and wrestled his hand away none-too-gently. "Stop." His voice was low and more than a bit wavery. "I'd really rather not make a mess in my pants, you dirty sonovabitch." He glared at his lover, but his stern expression was rather ineffectual against Greg's bright grin. "You are a right bastard, Gregory Lestrade."  
   
"Me? You're the one who just had to stop and listen to the poor man trying to take a little time to himself to relieve some of his unbearable tension." John's eyes widened as Greg's voice started to rise, and he hastily clamped a hand to the older man's mouth. Greg rolled his eyes before licking a broad stripe up his palm, grinning again as John jerked away in surprise. "It's not like he isn't aware, sweetheart. He knows what a filthy little thing you are, and I'm pretty sure he likes the idea of putting on a bit of a show..." A quiet chuckle from the opposite side of the door seemed to confirm this, and then there was absolute confirmation as Geoff knocked three times at the wall next to the door. Greg laughed outright as John leapt to his feet and to the opposite side of the corridor, his face burning scarlet. Greg knocked back before calling out in his normal tone of voice. "All right there, mate?"  
   
Another throaty chuckle drifted out through the cracks in the door. "Feckin' barry, mucker. Gie oan wi' ye, noo..."  
   
Greg laughed again, and rose to his feet somewhat unsteadily, jiggling his legs to get some of the feeling back, and in a bit of an attempt to disguise the not inconsiderable situation of his own that had suddenly arisen. John reached out his hand and pulled him close, tucking his face into his chest in embarrassment. He groaned quietly as Greg patted his bum reassuringly. "Christ, I feel like a right  _tit_. A nasty dirty pervert."  
   
Greg blinked down at the top of his head. "Well yeah... That's 'cause you _are_ , sweetheart." John blew out a sharp huff of laughter, keeping his face firmly hidden as he clutched at the back of Greg's shirt. "And what's wrong with that? Geoff knew we were listening, you silly thing. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't want us to be part of it. Probably just his way of getting us back for getting him all worked up in the first place."  
   
John finally tipped his head back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not that you didn't have a hand in it, Gregory." The older man shrugged, his face carefully nonchalant, and John bit his lip as he threw a glance back at the closed door. "So he's a bit furry, huh?"  
   
"A _bit_ furry?" Greg snorted. "Good God, no. Hairy as _fuck_. My lovely Jock there boasts a truly magnificent pelt on that gloriously burly body of his. Thick enough that I could dig my fingers in hard and just tug away to my heart's delight. Gave me something luscious to hold tight to when I was buried deep in his arse, and Jesus - it felt _so_ good to rub up against..."  
   
John gasped as Greg ground into him firmly, both of them quite obviously standing at attention. "Shut up, for fuck's sake, you filthy man." Another strong push, and John's back hit the wall with a solid thump as Greg growled quietly, his breath hot against his lover's neck. "Seriously, you nasty fucker, knock it off." Greg sighed, but let his hold on John's hips go slack as the smaller man pushed at his chest. "We still need to get back to yours, don't we, Constable?" John's eyes twinkled at Greg's sharp intake of breath. "Once we're there, you can do anything to me that you like." He bit his lip sensuously and looked up at his lover from underneath his lashes. "Constable. _Sir_."  
   
Greg's body quivered slightly as he once again reached out to take John's hand, starting to lead him back to the main room of the club. He stopped at the entranceway, John's hand convulsively tightening on his as quite a number of faces in the crowd turned to take them in. It wasn't as though the music came screeching to a halt or anything, and not all of them were looking, thank God, but Greg still felt the somewhat absurd need to pull John in closer to his body protectively. So he did, and he was only slightly surprised that John did not object at all, especially as one or two of the cattier individuals from the earlier group let out sharp whistles and started clapping. That attracted a bit more attention, of course, but John swiftly went into Captain Watson mode, ducking his chin minutely and straightening his shoulders before simply marching across the floor, keeping Greg close to his back as he pulled him along.  
   
Greg shivered momentarily as they reached the cloakroom counter, feeling eyes on him, and he glanced back as John was collecting both of their jackets. It wasn't at all difficult to discern Edward staring at him from across the room, chewing his bottom lip in contemplation as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. Greg frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as Edward's gaze sharpened and his lips pursed, almost like a silent challenge. Someone approached his former lover as Greg watched, and a quiet sense of dread began to trickle through his chest. This someone was young and lithe and clearly inexperienced, almost painfully so. With barely a word to the apparently eager lad, Edward seized his arm in a strong grip and started pulling him toward the gents'. Greg felt his body stiffen abruptly and he nearly turned to follow, some sense of chivalry battering at his head and encouraging his legs to move. But then John was tugging him in the opposite direction; and as much of an arse as Edward could be, Greg knew that he wouldn't hurt the youngster. Not deliberately, anyway. Right?  
   
Greg sighed deeply as they hit the pavement outside the club, the cool air helping to whisk away the cobwebs, his sense of uncertainty. His instincts niggled at him silently as John shrugged his jacket back on, eyeing him curiously. "What was that about, then?"  
   
"Edward being a prick, as usual..." Greg hesitated, his guts roiling uneasily, before pulling out his phone. "I just... Hold on a second, okay?" John nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tilted his head. Greg quickly composed a text, hoping it would suffice.  
   
_'Not a contest, E. Don't do anything stupid.'_ He hit 'send' and after a moment of thought, typed out and sent another one. _'Please.'_  
   
He dithered on the pavement, shifting his weight from foot to foot as John eyed him with concern. After a couple of minutes of watching his lover fret, he jerked his chin toward the door. "Go on, love. I don't know what you saw, but it's obviously troubling you. Check it out. I don't mind." Greg pressed a swift kiss to his cheek and ducked back in, nearly slamming the inner door open in his haste. But as soon as he took one step in further, he saw the young lad leaving the toilets, looking a bit miffed perhaps, but at least physically unharmed.

Edward stepped out a moment later, once again locking gazes with him over the sea of people on the dance floor. Greg blew out a sudden breath that he didn't even know that he had been holding in as he gave Edward a quick once-over. There was a stiff tension in the set of his neck and shoulders, a bit of anger on his face, yes, but beyond that, his eyes were hooded with shame, and more than just a touch of fear. It was obvious to him that even Edward had no idea what he had intended to do, but that he was reluctantly grateful that Greg had interceded and stopped him from doing anything foolish, or perhaps even unforgivable.

The men shared a little nod of understanding before Edward started to push his way through the crowd toward the bar. Greg bit his lip, wondering if he shouldn't interfere again, but Edward had never had an issue with letting liquor get the best of him. Yeah, the night was still relatively young - at least it was for Edward, and he would undoubtedly make some kind of questionable hookup before the night was out, but at least it wouldn't be with some naïve and impressionable kid. Greg stepped out of the club for the final time that night, shaking the lingering doubt out of his head. No, E wasn't exactly in his right mind at the moment, but he wasn't dangerous. Not anymore, not with Greg currently sitting in his head like a spectre of his seemingly long-forgotten conscience.

John held his arms out to him as he emerged, and Greg didn't hesitate to tuck himself into that comfort, so willingly given. His small but strong warrior held him up, pressing his lips to his forehead as Greg simply buried his nose in his neck and breathed him in for long moments. "Is it something you can share, sweetheart?"

Greg started to shake his head, and then paused. "Not sure, really. I think he was about to do something really rash and really _really_  stupid, but when I went in there to see what was going on, he had already stopped himself."

"Because of your text."

"Yeah." Greg sighed deeply. "Yeah, maybe."

"No, it was absolutely because of that." John stroked his back idly. "Edward is not the sort to let any amount of stupidity stand in the way of getting his rocks off, Greg."

Greg snorted out a quiet laugh. "But it's because of me that he was behaving that way."

John abruptly grasped his upper arms in a fierce grip and pushed him away so he could look him dead in the eye. Greg shivered as his slate-blue eyes burned into him. "You stop that right now. Any actions that damn fool may take, they are all on _him_. I'm glad that you were able to knock him out of that headspace, but him being there in the first place has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you. His actions and motivations are his own, nobody else's." Greg's mouth dropped open as John gave him a little shake. "You got that?"

Greg stammered briefly, his eyes wide as John scowled up at him. "Y-yes, sir."

John softened his stance and went up on his toes to give his lover a blistering kiss. "Better. Now, all this bullshit is going to be left right here at the door to this club. For tonight, anyway, because I do think we should talk and maybe reconsider some things. But for the rest of the night, it's just you and me, okay? Edward doesn't deserve any place in your heart, and for the next few hours, no place in your head, either. You're _mine_ , Gregory. Only mine."

"Oh." Greg grabbed John's face in both hands and proceeded to snog him senseless, relishing the manner in which the smaller man seemed to melt into him. "Oh, _yes_ , Captain my Captain." John smiled up at him brightly if a bit dazedly as he took Greg's hand in a firm grip and led him to the kerb, where a long line of cabs was waiting to usher any number of inebriated or simply giddy club-goers home.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief translation...
> 
> "Fucking brilliant, mucker. Get on with you, now..."
> 
> **********************************************************************************************************
> 
> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade finally gets his fill of his lovely little rent-boy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahoy! Yeah, like nearly five thousand words of nothing but dirty boys doing their dirty thing... Woo!
> 
> I'd really love to know what you think of this one, as I'm pretty proud of it. *blush*
> 
> Kisses!

Greg was still a bit subdued on the ride back to his, obviously lost in his own thoughts even as he ran his hand over John's thigh in a somewhat mesmerising manner. John stared out his own window for a moment as he contemplated. The potential situation with Edward that Greg had managed to defuse had definitely affected both of them a bit negatively, but John found that he was still buzzing gently from their 'encounter' with Geoff. The manner in which the Scotsman had indirectly played with them, the way Greg had revealed bits and pieces of their time together, his memory of that night apparently crystal clear, even from so many years ago. They had obviously made a definite impression on one another, and John wondered just how it had never bloomed into anything deeper, or why they hadn't at least come together again, even as just a casual thing. But then, that was life, wasn't it? Sometimes things just don't work out. He let out a quiet breath as he turned his head, taking in Greg's profile, steadfast and beautiful even with nothing more than being back-lit against the buildings and streetlights that they were passing. Yeah, sometimes things don't work out. But not this time, dammit.  
   
John abruptly snatched up Greg's hand and pressed it hard to the growing bulge in his jeans, slithering as close as he could over the bench seat. The silver-haired man stiffened slightly as John's breath washed over his neck, as his lover nibbled on his earlobe gently. "Constable... I want you in my mouth. I want to taste you again..."  
   
Greg chuckled low, shaking his head slightly as he elbowed John back across the seat to a much more socially appropriate distance. With a sideways glance at the cabbie, he kept his voice pitched low. "Public indecency, whore. You are a lovely little thing, but very much  _not_ worth the potential of losing my job over." John squirmed as Greg gave his hardening prick a solid squeeze. "Patience, tart. You'll have your taste and then some." He nodded out the window as the cab turned up his street. "And soon, too." Greg released him reluctantly and dug around for his wallet, practically tossing the notes through the partition as the vehicle came to a halt.

Without another word, he tugged John out of the cab and essentially frog-marched him up the stairs to his flat, his grip on his upper arms quite firm. John giggled quietly as Greg took a moment to press him up against his front door, raising his arms high above his head as he 'frisked' him perfunctorily. He shuddered as Greg once more gave him a solid grope, his hand tucked into the crotch of his jeans as he squeezed nice and hard. "No hidden weapons. That's good, slut. Means I won't have to get rough." Greg grabbed John's hips and pulled him in tight, tucking his own hardness right into the cleft of that glorious arse. "Unless you _want_ me to, of course."  
   
John's giggles petered out into a low, quiet moan, and he pushed back, grinding back into his lover as he knocked his forehead against the unforgiving door. "Oh, please, Constable sir..."  
   
Greg growled in his ear and reached out to unlock the door, his fingers fumbling with the key as he tilted his hips even further into the man trapped between him and the entrance to his flat. "Yes, my little whore. Oh, _yes_." He finally managed to get the door unlocked, and simply shoved John into the sitting room as it opened. The smaller man stumbled slightly, but rather than objecting, he shuffled in far enough so Greg could close the door firmly behind them, snapping the lock shut with a loud clang. They both shed their jackets, dropping them in untidy heaps on the floor before simply crashing together. John slammed Greg's back up against the door, his mouth moving against his with a desperate intensity. The older man chuckled low in his throat, but returned his lover's attentions enthusiastically, trying to stuff one hand down the back of his snug-fitting jeans. When that didn't work, he pulled away slightly and put his hands on John's shoulders, gently but inexorably pushing him down, down onto his knees.  
   
John did not resist, going down easily and then he just knelt there silently, looking up at him expectantly, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips as Greg smirked and moved his hand to the zip of his jeans. His eager little tart heaved out a wavering breath, his body shuddering involuntarily as his eyes darted from his face to his fingers and then back again. The silver-haired man sighed with relief as his fully hard cock sprung free, and he took it in hand, idly stroking himself as John shuffled closer, as Greg put his free hand to the back of his head and guided his prick to his wet, pink lips. He swiped the tip over that beguiling mouth, humming contentedly as John's tongue flickered out for a taste, as the pre-come that was beginning to leak out was smeared over lips and chin alike. John closed his eyes in bliss as Greg continued to paint his face with his excretions, over his cheeks and even across his nose before dipping under his chin and down his neck.  
   
John opened his eyes, only the barest hint of slate-blue ringed around utterly black pupils. Without a word or even a wink, he simply dropped his mouth open, and then settled in to wait. Greg smirked again. He had intended to hold back, to continue to tease his desperate little whore, but of course it was impossible to resist that oh-so-tempting invitation. Greg put his cock to that greedy mouth, and John's eyes widened minutely as he read his lover's intent in his smouldering black eyes, but rather than pulling away, he simply clutched at his soon-to-be-violator's legs and opened his throat wide as that gorgeous prick was shoved in deep, as his head was pushed forward hard. Greg groaned lustily as he threw back his own head, knocking it against the solid wood of the door, and he thrust forward again and again, releasing his tight grip on John's hair in favour of caressing his shoulders. John continued to deep-throat him for a precious few seconds, pulling off only to take in a gasping breath before diving back in. He hummed against the thick cock buried in his mouth and tickling at the back of his throat, trying to hold back on his satisfied giggles as Greg quivered and yelped quietly. John pulled off again, his left hand stroking his lover's wet member as he awkwardly fumbled with his own zip with his right. He darted in to lay delicate little kisses on the shaft as Greg opened his eyes and looked down at him, his broad fingers tracing along his jaw as he bit his lip. John took him in deep again, in order to free both hands to get his jeans and pants open and pulled down somewhat.  
   
Greg smiled. "Talented indeed, my little whore. I'd love to know where you learnt your tricks."  
   
John hummed again as he pulled off. "They teach you so many wonderful things in the Army..."  
   
"Ah." Greg groaned as John ducked his head low and sucked gently on the loose skin of his bollocks. "And of course once they let you out, you just knew that you had to put that knowledge to good use, is that it?"  
   
"Well, my dear Constable sir... As you've mentioned a couple of times now, I do have certain talents. And it's so rare to find something that you love and still somehow manage to make a good living at it, don't you think?"  
   
Greg chuckled quietly. "Rare indeed. So what else do you have a talent for, my lovely slut?"  
   
John hummed against the heavy lump that was currently residing on his tongue, letting it drop out after Greg had once more tightened his fingers in his hair. He swirled his tongue around and over and under, his eyes locked on his lover's face. He gently shook off his grip before going up on his knees and shuffling backwards slightly. Greg's eyes widened with delight as he took in his darkly flushed cock, leaking steadily as it stood up straight and proud. Without breaking eye-contact, John smirked and roughly shoved his clothes down to mid-thigh. "Well, Constable Lestrade - I don't know if it counts as a talent so much as an ability..."  
   
" _Mm_." Greg cleared his throat. "And what's that, then?"  
   
John bit his lip and turned his back on him, looking over his shoulder as he grabbed his arse in both hands and spread his cheeks. "The ability to take quite the pounding from just about any cock, sir. An ability that I believe you were looking forward to, if I recall correctly." He slowly tipped his torso forward, until his chest was pressed hard to the floor and he was left completely exposed for his lover's rapt appreciation. Greg's eyes snapped down to the pretty picture that John was presenting him with and he growled incoherently before crouching down over him. John squealed inelegantly as his waist was suddenly captured in a ferocious grip, and Greg bit down on the back of his neck.  
   
"Jesus fucking Christ you are absolutely incorrigible and I am going to _wreck_ you, whore. Mine. You will be mine and nobody else's, is that understood?" Greg heaved him upright, turning him bodily toward the bedroom. "I'm going to fuck all the breath out of this tight little body, gonna mark you all up so everyone knows that you are taken. Mine, slut. All fucking _mine_."  
   
" _Guh_." John's breath left him in a rush as Greg's arm cinched in hard around his middle, pressing in against his diaphragm and physically forcing the air from his lungs. He squirmed as the older man manhandled him roughly, but not brutally, his toes barely brushing the carpeting as Greg literally dragged him into his domain, rather like a beast claiming the spoils of the hunt. His head spun as he felt his belly hit the mattress, but he did not object to his lover's rough treatment, no - rather, he felt an odd sense of pride due to it. This gorgeous man, normally so caring and kind, who was at this moment growling over his prone form in some sort of possessive fugue, and it was all because of _him_. John felt a wild surge of delight at the mere thought that he was the one who had seemingly unearthed this primal, lusty creature. So many times with his past lovers, it had just been assumed that good old Captain Watson was going to take control, when what he really wanted was to offer himself up. And now - oh, now - he didn't even have to offer, no, because Greg was just _taking_ it, by God. Simply taking all that he had, and Jesus fuck, it made his head and prick throb almost unbearably and he knew without a doubt that it wasn't going to take much at all to make him spill all over the duvet like some simpering virgin.  
   
Indeed, he already felt his bollocks beginning to pull up as Greg yanked him down over the mattress, making sure his arse was hanging over the side of the bed for easy access. John shuddered violently as the heat of his lover's body washed over his exposed flesh, and he turned his head so his cheek was mashed into the mattress. He could only barely see Greg over his shoulder as he hovered over him, his eyes dark and hungry as his hands squeezed the upturned globes of his cheeks hard. John squirmed again, anticipating the marks those strong, broad fingers would leave behind for him to admire the next day. He felt his face heat up as he writhed under the pressure of his lover's scrutiny, already feeling like a debased, wretched thing, a wanton whore absolutely desperate for another's touch. He thought back to all the times before, all of the men and women that he had bedded in his life, and suddenly realised that he had never _wanted_ as badly as he did now, never _needed_ as terribly - not even as a hormone-riddled teenager, when he would have to duck into the school toilets at least twice a day for a swift and furious wank, just to make the damn nuisance calm down for a moment.

Greg crouched behind him suddenly, giving his tangled jeans a hard yank, jolting John's body and exposing even more of his quivering flesh. Hot breath washed over his arse, and his low moan swiftly segued into a sharp yelp as Greg sank his teeth into his left cheek, biting hard and sucking even harder. John went utterly limp, except for his hands, clutching ineffectually at the bedclothes with trembling fingers. He could barely discern rough words being spoken in an undertone, the gravelly snarls and growls that were coming from his lover's lips overriding ' _minemineallminegonnamarkyouupyouareminelittlewhoremine_ '. John groaned and tensed as Greg's mouth moved to the other cheek, abusing it just as thoroughly as the first. Then his strong fingers ran up the cleft gently, and with almost absurd care he parted the flesh and blew a light but hot gust of breath over John's arsehole. Another violent shudder, and John could hear him licking his lips, and a swift thrill ran up his spine because right now - oh. Right at this moment, he would let Greg do it, let him take the taste that he knew he was absolutely aching for. He wouldn't stop him, and he wouldn't blame him, because he knew that there was hardly any logic left in that brain of his, no. The only things residing in his lover's body and mind at this moment were lust and hunger and near-crippling need. Yes, he would let him take anything he wanted, would let him because _oh fuck_ did he want it too, but of course there would be regret later. Not necessarily because of the act, and definitely not because of Greg, but because he was a doctor, dammit, and he knew which things were safe and which were not. And the thoughts trickling through Greg's mind right now were so very not safe. John squirmed again, a quiet gasp escaping as Greg moved upward slightly, as his nose hovered and his mouth parted, as a long dribble of saliva dropped down on his inflamed skin, and oh, it almost felt like it sizzled as it made contact.

"Oh _Jesus_..." Greg's voice was deeper now, deep and reverent, that sensuous low gravel scraping up John's spine and leaving gooseflesh in its' wake. He shuddered again as one finger delicately traced along his pucker, the tip of that lovely digit just barely entering him, until John gasped and squirmed and tilted his hips back, flexing his inner muscles in an attempt to take in more. He almost demanded it, opening his mouth to bark a command, but the dark breathy chuckle from behind him made him slam his teeth shut over it, because he instinctively knew that if he demanded, if he ordered, that he would be denied. Oh, but begging - that was a different matter altogether, wasn't it?

So John let himself go limp again, fighting back against the almost overwhelming urge to push and wriggle and writhe, and took in a calming breath before glancing back over his shoulder once again. "Oh, Constable sir... _Please_." He bit his lip against the waver in his voice, but from Greg's expression, that pleading tone had struck right to the core of him. "Please. Fill me up with that gorgeous cock of yours, I beg of you. Use me like the nasty dirty whore that I am. Oh please..."

Greg's eyes flashed dark and dangerously wicked as his body shivered, and John could swear that the cock that was still sticking rather absurdly from the zip of his jeans stiffened even further under his delighted gaze. There was another low growl and the silver-haired man abruptly turned to the bedside table. "Hold yourself open for me, slut. Show me that eager hole of yours."

John immediately complied, grasping his own cheeks firmly and pulling himself apart, just as he had in the sitting room. He bit his lip as he watched Greg shove his jeans down just a bit, sheathing himself and slicking a generous amount of lube over his prick before simply placing the head right at John's entrance and then starting to push in. John's back arched involuntarily, and he whined quietly as Greg groaned appreciatively. Oh God, yes. He let his awareness slip down into that one point of contact between them as his lover continued to move forward, inexorably burying himself up to the hilt. That stretch, that quiet burn, oh my fucking God, _yes_. After all, he had been fucked by this same member earlier in the evening, and then there had been the toy, but that had been annoyingly smooth and nowhere near the girth that Greg boasted. So he was open, yes, but definitely not loose, and it was such a delicious sensation, feeling every little vein on that beautiful thick cock as it slowly but surely opened him up, filling him so completely as it rubbed against his passage, making his nerves sing and his belly swoop.

Not that he was the only one who appreciated the sensation, as Greg let out an indiscriminate sound of pure pleasure as he stilled himself, reaching out to grab at John's hips. "Let go of yourself, whore. You'll need those hands of yours to hold onto something, won't you?" He groaned again and pushed in just a tad deeper as he pulled John down hard onto him. "Find some way to gag yourself as well. I don't want the neighbours thinking that I'm murdering someone in here."

A hot flush raced through John's body as he briefly pushed himself up on his elbows, awkwardly skimming his t-shirt off and bunching it up to stuff in his mouth. Greg laughed delightedly from behind him, and without further delay, simply pulled out and then pushed all the way back in hard. John let out a muffled and quite unmanly squeal, his arms locking tight against the mattress as he tried to push back, but his feet barely even touched the floor, for fuck's sake, he couldn't even brace himself properly, and the force of Greg's thrusts were slowly and inevitably shoving him across the mattress. His lover let an annoyed huff of breath out through his nose, but he simply locked his hands tight around his little tart's hips and held him fast as he fucked him, swift and rough and oh-so-beautifully. John didn't hold back on his vocalisations, mostly just high grunts and greedy moans as Greg pounded into him, all muffled by the fabric that was becoming soaked with his spittle. It was only a minute or two of solid fucking before John felt that familiar swirl of warmth, only a few more strokes of his hard cock being dragged across the bedding, and he felt his neck flush with heat and break out in a sweat, and he found himself holding his breath just like Geoff had, holding his body taut as his orgasm started to unwind from deep in his core, the thick tendrils of his pleasure stretching out through his belly and limbs.  

Another low chuckle, and the grip on his hips shifted, one hand coming up to wrap around his throat as Greg bent down over his body, his hips not hesitating one bit in their incessant rhythm. "Oh yes, my little slut. _Yes_. Come for me, my darling, beautiful whore. Want to feel you break to pieces, and know it was all because of _me_." He licked a wet stripe up John's neck before simply sinking his teeth in, growling low once more.

Well, what else could John do but obey? He screamed into his makeshift gag as his body shook and shuddered and he did indeed fly to pieces, his mind scattering to the four winds and only reluctantly coming back into his body as his cock jumped and twitched and released all over the bedding, just as he predicted it would. Greg hummed with delight and more than a bit of pride as John's body quivered itself into silence, slowing the pace of his thrusts, but still grinding in deep and sure. John let out a strangled sound that almost could have been a sob, and Greg hushed him quietly, running his fingers through his hair as he licked and nipped at the nape of his neck.

"Such a good lad you are... So obedient, and oh - _so_ delicious. You feel so wonderful around me, my lovely slut." Greg hummed again as he levered his weight off of the prone figure, and withdrew. John's body jerked as that delightful cock pulled free, and he looked back over his shoulder in confusion. But Greg ignored him for the moment, in favour of crouching and pulling first his trainers off, and then the rest of his clothing, which took a minor amount of tugging and cursing, as his pants had become somewhat entangled with his jeans. John shivered again as the cool air of the room wafted over his now entirely nude body, and he moaned in relief as he once more felt the warmth of his lover crowding close. But rather than burying himself in John's arse as he expected, Greg tugged on his hips, encouraging him to roll over on his back.

His dark eyes blazed at the look of utter satisfaction and complete submission on John's face, but he couldn't help but chuckle at the ruin of the shirt that was still being held in his jaws. Greg extracted it gently, tossing it down on the floor before bending down to kiss his puffy and spit-slicked lips, smiling as John moaned and clutched at him weakly, but still quite desperately. "Please, Constable Lestrade. I want to get you off..."

"Oh, you _will_ , my darling one." He pushed John's legs up toward his chest and took his hands in his own, chuckling again as his arms wobbled and twitched under his guidance. "You just hold onto these for me for a bit, all right?"

John bit his lip and nodded, but then frowned minutely as he tucked his hands under his knees and pulled back. "I'll need that shirt back, sir."

"No." Greg grinned wickedly and clamped one hand down on John's mouth before slamming himself back in without even a by-your-leave. "No you won't."

Once more, that beautiful golden body arched, the muscles pulling tight as John shouted against his palm. Greg put his other hand on his shoulder, keeping firm hold as he fucked hard and deep, keeping his eyes locked on those of his darling little whore, who encouraged him as silently as he could, his breath huffing out of his nose and across the back of Greg's hand with every solid thrust. Greg moaned as his own chest heaved, as John pulled back even further on his legs and clamped his belly muscles tight, clenching down with every bit of strength that he had left in him.

"Fuck. Oh, Jesus fuck you are a _wonder_. So - _nghk_ \- good and oh Christ so tight..." Greg bit back another curse as John's hips tilted just so, as he tried to roll into him. "So close, _fuck yes_..." He abruptly stopped thrusting and took in a great breath before pulling out again. "Not inside, no. Gotta mark you."

John's eyes went wide as Greg whipped the condom off and took himself in hand, and he knew that he intended to unload on his belly, but that didn't feel quite right to him, no, not right at all. No, he had started this filthy little game, and he was going to be the one to finish it, by damn. So John struggled into a seated position before sliding off the mattress and once more to his knees, his body awkwardly tucked between the bed frame and his lover's solid form. "Not like that, Constable. _Me_. I want to do it." Greg blinked down at him and took a small step back so John could lean forward and take him in his mouth again, humming low as the silver-haired man twitched violently. Two careful bobs of his head, and another deep pull of lips and tongue, and Greg gave voice to a sharp shout, and as he started to pulse he pulled out, grabbing at his cock and aiming it low. John let one stream splash down on his chest, almost laughing at Greg's chivalrous gesture, knowing that he was trying to be polite, even through the haze of his absolute lust. But then he swiftly knocked Greg's hand out of the way, replacing it with his own before closing his eyes and angling it high, his body shuddering with delight and utter joy as the hot spurts of come hit his lips and his cheeks and even up on his forehead. Because this was about marking, after all, and maybe he didn't yet have the courage to tell the man that he loved so absolutely just what he meant to him, but he damn well had the ability to show him, and what better way than this?

Greg's body quivered and shook for long moments, his long moan eventually petering out into nothing but sharp gasps for air. He looked down in wonder as John's grip on his cock shifted, as he took the slowly softening member and gently rubbed it against his cheeks, smearing the come that had streaked over his face. He licked at it and sucked it inside again, swirling his tongue around and over as Greg choked off a quiet cry. When the smaller man finally seemed to get enough of nuzzling his lover's prick like it was the most prized possession on earth, he slowly opened his eyes and looked up at him serenely, his expression as content as that of a cat with a saucer of cream. Greg's fingers trailed through the mess that he had left behind, that John had willingly painted on his own face, and his knees wobbled at the rush of power and absolute satisfaction that surged through his veins. He nearly came again, in fact, something in his spine jerking him upright, his spent member twitching gently.

Instead, he sank to his knees in front of his debased lover, straddling those luscious thighs as he pressed in close and licked at the come drying on his face. "So beautiful. And mine."

John smiled gently and tucked his face into the crook of Greg's neck. "Yours."

Greg wrapped his arms around him tenderly and rocked their bodies together, humming as John tucked his arms around his waist. "And I'm yours, my lovely little whore."

John giggled until he ran out of breath, and raised a hand to smack at Greg's chest lightly before running his fingers over his own face, scratching gently. "Yes. Yes you are, my dear Constable." He sighed tiredly and then scratched some more.

" _Mm_. I think you might need a shower, yeah?" John groaned, but then nodded reluctantly. Greg pulled away and shifted to his feet before pulling John up and once again into his arms. "How about I clean up first and then keep the bed warm for you?" John nodded again, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of the shirt that Greg was still wearing, in a subtle attempt to rub the drying, flaking mess off his face. His lover giggled at him unabashedly. "Unbelievably hot as fuck that you did that for me, you dirty man. But I guess the aftermath isn't quite as hot, huh?"

John huffed out a quiet laugh, but pushed himself away from the warmth of his lover's body and shoved him in the direction of the tiny toilet. "Quickly, if you please."

Greg hummed his agreement and stripped down efficiently, leaving his clothing in a pile as he retreated to go wipe down and clean his teeth. With a little smirk, he reached into the shower cubicle and turned it on for his lover, feeling rather domestic and stupidly romantic over the gesture. But he thought it might have been appreciated, as John smiled at him brightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he passed by. Although, maybe it was something else that he was pleased over, since he also delivered a nice hard smack on one bare arse-cheek to go along with the smile...  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick myself up a Brit-picker!
> 
> Everybody, please say thank you to the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen for taking on this monumental task...
> 
> Thank you, m'dear! ;-p


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of a day in the life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey - they're actually out and about this time, not just sequestered away at the club or at Greg's flat... Just a bit of the day-to-day life, no full-on smut, but have no fear, the next chapter should provide all of that and more. 
> 
> As always, I am deeply indebted to all of you that are following me on this journey, and I would *love* to hear what you all think...
> 
> Kisses, my darlings!

Three weeks! It was going on three weeks now since Greg had been able to have one single uninterrupted moment alone with John, and it was beginning to send him right around the bend.

Sherlock, of course, was firmly in his element, dancing around the macabre tableau laid out before him with a manic gleam in his eye and a pleased smile on his lips. This was the fourth now; four families that had been slaughtered in apparent murder-suicides perpetrated by the heads of the households. At least, that's what it seemed to be, before you took in the obvious post-mortem staging of the bodies. They all looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell, for Christ's sake, all 50s innocence. Prim dresses and pearl necklaces, neatly ironed trousers, bow-ties and painstakingly coiffed hair. It would be wholesome, even, if not for the great swathes of blood that decorated clothing and hair and skin and furnishings.

John met his eyes over the gory scene with a wry twist to his lips, and Greg damn near vibrated right out of his body. He was feeling jittery as fuck, as if he were surviving on nothing more than straight black coffee; which was closer to the truth than he cared to admit. His mind and his body were all out of sync, and he could only hope that he was managing to keep his discomfort all tucked away, and not showing any of his tension externally. John knew, of course, because he was obviously feeling the same way. It wasn't readily apparent to anyone who didn't know him well, but Greg could see that his fists were tightly clenched even as he held his body in his own modified form of parade rest, his posture slightly relaxed with his feet spread and shoulders squared.

John bit his lip as his eyes shifted over to Sherlock, still twirling around the room in that damn flappy coat and muttering to himself. Then they flickered back to Greg, widening and darkening minutely as they travelled up and down his trembling form. Greg hastily stifled his moan into his fist, turning it into an awkward and embarrassingly fake coughing fit. He lifted his free hand in contrition as Sherlock glared, turning and stumbling out of the front door, immediately turning left and heading down the short alleyway between the houses, winding up in the crime scene's tiny back garden.

It wasn't entirely private, as his team was still scattered throughout the house, but it was as secluded as Greg needed to allow himself to relax a bit, leaning up against the brickwork and blowing out a hard, frustrated breath. It wasn't like he hadn't been taking care of himself every fucking morning (and sometimes again before falling into bed, especially if he had seen John that day), but it wasn't enough. He needed to feel him, to smell him, to bloody well taste him as he was getting off. Nothing else could satisfy that gnawing hunger, that deep need. Nothing and nobody else but John Watson would do.

Greg froze as he heard footsteps heading his way, but then sagged in relief when he realised it was John, the sound of his customary short, hard march quite unmistakable. He chanced a quick glance around the corner to be sure it was him, that he was alone, and then shot out his hand to capture his quarry by the upper arm before dragging him around and pushing him back up against the house without preamble.

John let out a surprised huff of breath, but nothing else as Greg pressed the entirety of his body close and tucked his nose into his neck. "Fucking addicted to you, Watson."

There was a low chuckle as John swiftly plunged his hands under Greg's mack, pulling him in closer before snaking his arms around his waist and firmly squeezing his arse. "Need a fix, Detective Inspector?"

"Fuck yes. Going _mad_ without you. Think about you every goddamn day."

John shuddered and groaned as Greg ground up against him, both of their knees going a bit wobbly as their clothed erections rubbed against each other. "Jesus _fuck_. The feeling's mutual, sweetheart. I don't think I've wanked this much since secondary school. Every fucking day. Sometimes twice!"

Greg chuckled quietly before pulling away slightly to look at John's face. "Yeah, me too. It's not enough, is it?" The smaller man bit his lip as he reluctantly shook his head, feeling that he was perhaps giving away a bit more than he was entirely sure of. But then he was suddenly aware of nothing more than Greg's lips on his, rough and tender all at once, fiery and yet restrained. Not here, no, they both knew better, but later... Oh, the things that kiss was promising for later. Greg ran his lips down to his lover's chin and along his jawline, nibbling delicately on his earlobe. John simply moaned incoherently and dug his fingers into his lover's firm arse even harder. "Then you better get your pet consulting detective to figure this shit out before we both wind up in the loony bin."

"Greg, I... _Ohhh fuck_." John's eyes rolled back as Greg bit down lightly on his neck while rubbing against him rhythmically, and he meant to push him away, he really did, but his damn traitorous arms only convulsed and pulled the silver-haired man even closer and goddammit, there were just too many fucking clothes in the way and no matter how bad an idea it was, John was seriously considering just pulling it out anyway, but then there was a solid vibration in the structure at his back and the couple simply froze where they stood.

Only one man would slam a damn door hard enough to make the entire house shake, and they knew they had less than twenty seconds to disengage from their embrace and try to look slightly less debauched. Greg pressed back up against the house, plunging his hands into the pockets of his mack and pulling it across his front. John stood slightly to the side, angling his body so that the only thing Sherlock would see as he rounded the corner was his backside, because he had worn the short jacket today, what the fuck was he thinking? Nope, on days when you see Greg, you wear the _long_ one, you dolt. Much easier to conceal the inevitable boner that would spring up just about every time he laid eyes on the man. Honestly, it was almost like a Pavlovian response at this point...

Greg flashed one of his wicked grins at him with a little wink, and John shook his head with a warning glare before reaching up to rest his fingers on his neck, just under the jawline. He pressed in gently but firmly just as Sherlock popped around the corner, moving down under Greg's jaw.

"Photographer." He came to a halt with a brisk snap, his eyebrows turning in impressively. "John, what in _God's_ name are you doing?"

John glanced at him and then back to Greg, probing lightly at the other side of his neck. "I didn't like the sound of that cough, Sherlock. Just making sure your connection to the Met hasn't gotten himself ill." He dropped a sly wink and smile as Greg trembled under his touch. "Yeah, those are a bit swollen, you might be coming down with something..."

"For God's sake, you aren't at the clinic, don't dispense your hard-won medical advice to just any old bugger on the street - make him queue up like everyone else. Stop poking at Lestrade and pay attention to the important things."

"Like you?" Greg's eyes held a bit of amusement, even as he let some of his pent-up irritation filter out through his voice. He gently shook John off as he pushed away from the wall, grimacing at Sherlock's impatient huff. "Right. So what's important, then?"

"The crime scenes were elaborately staged, in a manner similar to those artificially sweet family portraits. You know the kind I mean, all saccharin and no substance."

John nodded curtly. "Matching outfits, the children done up like miniature versions of Mum and Dad. Fake and creepy as hell."

Sherlock's eyes gleamed. "Exactly!" He started pacing in front of them. "I should have noticed it before. In every house, there was a large blank space prominently featured, above the fireplace, over the sofa. As if something were missing."

"The family portrait." Greg ran his hand over his chin with a little nod and scratched at his stubble.

"Yes. They had all visited the same photography studio at some point in the last three months. Your offender works there, perhaps a new employee, or else someone who was recently triggered for some reason or other. I imagine he may have had a family much like the ones he chose to destroy. Picture-perfect on the outside, but rotten at the core. No doubt the fathers were abusive, physically or sexually, maybe both. The mothers were either oblivious or complicit." He quirked an eyebrow as both men shuddered under his sharp gaze. "He couldn't take revenge on his own abusers, but he could exact justice on others. He knew the signs to look for, knew how to spot the façades, knew which lesions needed to be excised."

Greg sighed deeply, and John fought the urge to go to him, clenching his fists tight once again. His lover noticed and gave him a sideways glance before schooling his features. "And the children?"

"Mercy kills, most likely. To prevent them from turning into someone like him, presumably."

_"Jesus Christ."_

Sherlock frowned mightily as Lestrade sagged up against the brickwork once again. "No need for theatrics, Detective Inspector. The deed is done, unfortunately, and now it's your responsibility to ensure that it doesn't happen again. I gave Sergeant Donovan the studio's address, no doubt she's just waiting on you to give your approval before she takes action. Heaven knows, she'd never do anything based on my say-so alone."

Greg shook his head as he gathered his legs underneath him. "Sherlock, you can't just..." He peered up into his face and shook his head again. "Never mind. Yeah, I'll go talk to Donovan."

He started to edge around the lanky form blocking his path, but Sherlock stepped in front of him again, his frown deepening as his eyes seemed to dissect him. "John, I believe you may be correct in assuming that Lestrade is falling ill. I would strongly suggest that you postpone your weekly outing with him tomorrow and visit your lover instead." His eyes bounced between the two men in consternation as they both choked back their laughter, their cheeks going quite red.

Greg could see the barest beginnings of understanding starting to dawn far back in the unfathomable depths of those brilliant eyes, and he unconsciously braced himself as he thought, _'Oh fuck, here it comes'._ Whether against a verbal or physical backlash, he didn't know what it would be, but he was going to be prepared, dammit. Although... He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he watched Sherlock twitch and lock that thought down, because of course it was quite impossible, and it simply wouldn't be tolerable even if it were.

"I fail to see what is so amusing." This time, it was John who let out his own nearly silent breath as Sherlock tilted his head. "I cannot have you both getting ill and John has not had an opportunity to exercise his libido since the start of this case. The extra time spent in his morning shower notwithstanding, he has been remarkably tense and cranky for the past fortnight at the very least. Obviously, a night in which he deals with those rather inconvenient urges will be far more beneficial to me than a night in which he gets too drunk to even be able to find his way back home."

John swallowed uneasily as he looked up into his flatmate's face. He really wasn't any good at outright lying, but found subtle deception to be a bit more manageable. Really, it wasn't lying, was it? No, more like - simply omitting certain truths. He nodded curtly and bounced on his heels as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Right you are, Sherlock. I'm not going to promise that I won't at least check in on Lestrade at some point in the evening, make sure he's getting on fine and all. But right after that, I will be sure to let those irritating and rather inconvenient animal urges out for a bit of a romp or two."

Greg nearly choked, turning his startled laughter into another staged coughing fit as Sherlock's cheeks went a rather adorable shade of pink. The younger man blinked rapidly as John took a moment to pat Greg firmly on the back, ostensibly helping him to clear his lungs. "Excellent, John. I'm pleased that you accept the logic of my argument."

"Oh, of course. No use to you if I'm all clogged up with lust, am I?" Sherlock cleared his throat as Greg wheezed helplessly. "And you - Jesus. That's sounding worse every minute. I will be at the clinic tomorrow, if you think you might need to drop in." Greg straightened slightly, wiping at his watering eyes as John winked at him surreptitiously. "Until about, oh, six or so? Might stop at a chippy on my way to check on you. Should fuel up before a long night of animalistic sexual exploits, don't ya know..."

Greg smirked before hiccoughing quietly. Oh, that was perfect. John would be coming by his after his shift, bearing greasy fried goodness and then they would happily shag the entire night away. Absolutely fucking perfect. He hiccoughed again, almost giggling at the way John's eyes widened and his lips twisted at the sound, his nimble tongue flickering out over his bottom lip before his teeth sank in quite deep. Greg stifled another involuntary diaphragm spasm, shifting his eyes to Sherlock and then back quickly. John seemed to shake himself back to awareness of their situation even as another quiet and absurdly sexy hiccough broke through his concentration.

Sherlock was once again looking between them, with more care this time, a thoughtful expression on his face. Greg nearly broke out into another laughing fit as they both put on their best innocent 'oh-it-can't-possibly-be-what-you're-thinking-don't-be-silly-and-oh-what's-that-over-there' looks. The consulting detective rolled his eyes and turned away, abruptly striding off in that imperious manner of his. John quirked an eyebrow at Greg with a quiet chuckle and marched off after him.

Greg watched them go, his head cocked to the side as he strolled along behind, enjoying the view immensely. John looked back before climbing into the cab that Sherlock had seemingly magicked out of thin air, catching the tilt of Greg's head, the smirk on his lips and the twinkle in his eye. _'Oh, yeah._ That _would be why I wore the short jacket. Right, right...'_

He twiddled his fingers on his knees on the way back to Baker Street, perfectly aware of the sidelong glances that Sherlock was casting at him, choosing to just ignore him for the moment. He honestly couldn't be bothered, seeing as how his mind was filled with nothing but Greg anyway, those dark eyes, that wicked tongue, those lovely thick fingers. He wiggled his bum into the seat slightly, feeling a vague memory of the last time Greg had worked him open, preparing him to take that glorious cock of his. Christ, he was utterly stupid for him. They were stupid for each other really, and fuck if that wasn't a magnificent thing. So why couldn't either of them say it?

But wait - Greg _had_ said it, more or less. _'Addicted to you, Watson.'_ How many people had likened love to addiction, whether in a fanciful poetic kind of way, or as an actual scientific theory? The same biochemistry was involved, after all. This time John did cast a glance at his flatmate, who appeared to have resolved himself to simply staring out of the window. Yeah, whether cocaine or love, it was all about that rush, wasn't it?

He sighed as the cab pulled into Baker Street, readying the notes that he knew would be his responsibility to hand over, since Sherlock viewed that kind of petty transaction as beneath him. True to form, the lanky git just about bowled him over in his haste to escape the cab, and John passed the money through the window with a rueful grin. The cabbie rolled his eyes at Sherlock's swiftly retreating back and returned John's conciliatory gesture with a little tip of his cap.

John wasn't at all surprised to find his flatmate already firmly ensconced in what appeared to be his seat for the evening, cosied up to his microscope with petri dishes and slides all at hand. He shook his head in bemusement and made tea for the both of them, perusing the contents of the fridge and eventually just re-heating some leftovers for himself. He didn't bother to ask Sherlock about food, he just went ahead and made him some toast, coating two pieces with a generous slather of honey. John left that and a mug at Sherlock's elbow, and went to fire up his laptop at the desk.

He wanted to get the basics of his latest blog post sketched out before heading up to bed, although the lack of sleep and the lingering sexual frustration from the past three weeks was definitely catching up with him. His eyes were heavy, but John smiled to himself as his ears picked up the sound of his mad flatmate contentedly crunching away at his meagre dinner. He sighed and picked up his mug, tapping out letters with one steady finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, dearie! :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets a bit of alone time, and Sherlock gets a bit nosy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for taking a day off and ignoring the laundry! Some smut, some cuteness, just another day in the life at 221B.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, my muse thrives off of comments!
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies...

John opened his eyes to dim morning light, swiftly realising that a biological imperative had awakened him, no doubt the result of the third cup of tea he had made for himself before finally dragging his arse up the stairs and into his bed. He stumbled into his tiny toilet and relieved himself before tumbling back onto the mattress, curling up in the warm spot and tucking the covers in around himself securely. Warm, yes, but empty, and certainly nowhere near as toasty as Greg's bed. He grinned a little sleepily. His lover's newest habit was to get under the sheet before John and snuggle down on his customary side, pre-warming it for him. Provided that they hadn't fallen asleep tangled together after an incredibly satisfying shag, of course.

It was such a silly thing, a tiny but tender gesture, and John found that it just made him love him just that much more. It was just one of the many ways in which Greg showed how much he cared, how much he thought of him. John himself didn't think he had many moments in the day when he _wasn't_ thinking of Greg, even if it were just in random bits and pieces. Those legs, _Jesus_ , those hands... John loved to watch Greg's strong hands as they travelled over his body, loved to see the delight in his gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes and the trembling of his lips as he paid homage to his skin.

John's back arched as his prick sprang to full attention, and he moaned quietly. He hadn't pulled one out last night, being quite exhausted and harbouring some half-formed thought of saving it for when he saw Greg later in the evening. But now, oh, that was a rather ridiculous idea, wasn't it? He rolled slightly to look at his clock. Just a bit after six-thirty, and he didn't have to be in to the clinic until nine, so... An extended session, then.

John pushed his pants down to his thighs and pulled his vest up, idly pinching at one golden nipple, rolling it in his fingers. Hm. His back arched again and he pushed up into it, running one hand down his body as the other crossed his chest, paying a little more attention to the neglected nipple. It responded beautifully, perking up with just the lightest of touches and once more making John contort on the mattress. Fingers crawling along the inside of his thigh, kicking his pants off before spreading his legs wide as he tucked his hand under his bollocks, fingering his perineum as he cupped the heavy weight in his hand.

Fuck yes. _'What do you think of that, Mycroft?'_ He grinned to himself as he continued to fondle his bollocks. Of course there was a camera somewhere in his room, even though he had never bothered to search for it. John liked to tease, after all, liked to put on his little shows. Knowing that someone was watching made it all that much hotter for him, although he'd had yet to put on a complete show for Greg. Not that it was Greg's fault at all. He'd been quite eager and remarkably patient the couple of times that they had attempted it, but after a few minutes of those dark eyes on him and a wicked grin gleaming in his direction, John simply could not hold himself back, and he had begged his lover to just come take him, goddammit.

And Greg had complied, every time. With perhaps a bit of a smug air about him, to be honest, but John could hardly begrudge him his moments of triumph. Especially when he sank so deep inside and gave John exactly what he needed. Oh God. John thrashed slightly, just the thought of having Greg buried in him making his arsehole spasm around nothing but air. His prick twitched hard and gently smacked him in the belly, leaving a distinct trail of pre-come lingering on his skin. JesusGodChristoh _fuck_. Fuck, he needed Greg's cock. Needed it so badly...

John flipped over abruptly, going to his knees and no doubt giving someone a very pretty picture to analyse later. Whether it was Mycroft himself or one of his minions, he didn't really care. He paused a moment as he pulled his shoebox out from under the bed. Wait... Could this be considered cheating? He knew - absolutely knew without a doubt - that there was a camera, and that it was filming him. But was anyone actually watching? And if they did, did they get a sexual thrill out of it? Or was it more about power? Either way, it was an interaction of a sort, and it was undoubtedly sexual on his part.

Somehow, John didn't think that Greg would mind, not really. After all, the only one touching him was John himself, and they both knew that they had to take matters into their own hands from time to time. And he wasn't doing this for the person on the other end of the camera anyway. No, it was all for him. But he made a mental note to bring it up with Greg at some point in the evening, since he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stay the weekend. Not unless Sherlock got whisked away on one of his brother's mysterious missions, which didn't seem likely, especially after an extended case such as the one they had just wrapped up.

John shook it off as he settled back on the mattress, opening his shoebox and shuffling through the contents. He pulled out the small bottle of lube and placed it on the bedside table before reaching for the large black dildo, the one that reminded him of Greg's perfect, thick cock. He tapped the silicone head on his chin as he contemplated, finally setting it aside with a bit of reluctance. If he was going to get fucked by that lovely prick later on this evening, he'd far prefer to feel Greg's fingers working him open, slow and sure and steady. He'd be too open if he used that one. John let his fingers trail over plugs and smooth, small vibes, knowing that none of it would suffice, not really.

His hole twitched again, almost mournfully. He shook his head. _'Tonight, you greedy thing.'_ So no penetrating toys, but he still wanted some external stimulation. Something smallish, and variable. Ah yes, the ever-reliable egg... John tucked the small oblong globe into his left hand to warm it slightly as he untangled the wire, pushing the lever to test the vibration. He hummed with pleasure and ran it over the top of his cock, shivering as it once more inflated to full capacity. John simply sat there for a moment with the egg tucked in between the base of his cock and his bollocks, running the fingers of both hands along his shaft lightly.

He grinned as a fresh stream of pre-come dribbled out, coating the underside of his prick. John dragged his fingers through it before sticking out his tongue and taking a taste. Not as nice as Greg's, obviously, but not entirely unpleasant. He smeared it around the head and down the top, determining that just a bit of lube would be necessary to get the right ratio of slick to friction. John squirmed slightly as he reached for the bottle, the gently vibrating egg making his bollocks tingle pleasantly. Not too much, no, just a couple of drops... He smoothed it down his shaft and then gave himself a nice hard squeeze.

Oh fuck _yes_. John pushed the lever on the vibe just a bit higher as he wriggled down in the bed, shoving his shoebox aside with his foot. He untucked the little egg from where it had been residing and rolled it downward from his navel, over his pubic bone and right to the root of his cock, where he held it steady as he pumped himself a few times. He bit back on his low groan, unsure of where Sherlock was in the flat and very much wanting to keep this to himself. He released himself momentarily in favour of tugging at his bollocks, dragging the vibe up his body this time, circling his nipples before tapping the egg against them lightly, the sensation making his back arch, thrusting his hips up. John stroked his prick, slow and gentle, as he ran the vibe everywhere within reach, along his sides and back up around his throat, even behind his ear. That one made his entire body break out into gooseflesh and he shivered deliciously. It wasn't quite the same as Greg's lips, as his breath, but it would do. For now.

John bit his lip as thoughts of Greg flooded his consciousness, and he closed his eyes to savour the sensations even more, to sink into the muscle-memory of strong, broad fingers caressing him, of prickly stubble dragging over the tender flesh of his inner thighs. He could damn well near feel him between his legs, his weight, his heat, the solid and reassuring presence of Greg hovering over him, feeling him, tasting him. Oh fuck - _fuck_. He once more tucked the egg into the space between his bollocks and the root of his cock, gathering the whole package up in one hand and holding it tight, his body shivering and shuddering with the strong and heavy vibrations as he pushed the lever all the way up. His free hand dabbled at the head of his prick, oh-so-gently swiping at the fluid that was leaking out at a steady rate.

He flickered his fingers along the slit lightly, trying to imitate the feeling of Greg's tongue when he was in a teasing mood. It wasn't right, not quite, but with his eyes closed, still feeling his lover's phantom body on top of his and imagining that mouth, that tongue - oh, _oh God_... Still squeezing the base, he wrapped his other hand around the head and simply gave in, pumping firmly, twisting his wrist just so, writhing and lifting his hips, thrusting into his fist and into Greg's invisible mouth and when his orgasm hit, it was actually a bit of a shock, as there was no obvious build-up. No, it simply erupted over his body like a tidal wave, ripping from his toes all the way to his eyeballs, and his legs flopped open wide as his back arched and the soft shout that he was unable to hold back bounced back at him from the vaulted ceiling. His cock swelled as his bollocks pulled tight, and then he was coming all over his stomach and chest in four long, hard spurts.

His body twitched through what felt like an astounding number of aftershocks, and he reached out blindly to turn the blasted vibe off before it sent him into another round of spasmodic shudders. John let out a long, heartfelt sigh as he came back down, giving his softening prick one last hard squeeze as it twitched in his hand. He simply laid there for a while, his body and mind floating in a hazy sea of post-orgasmic endorphins. Good - yeah, that was a good one. But it was just a starter, really. The main dish would be served up tonight, in Greg's bed. Or on his sofa. Or on the floor, for that matter. John wasn't particularly fussed with the location, just with his dining companion.

He snorted at himself softly and rolled off the mattress with a quiet groan. After a perfunctory wipe-down at his tiny sink, he busied himself with tidying away all of his personal paraphernalia and made the bed, nodding with pride at the crisp corners. John threw on his fuzzy striped robe and headed downstairs to shower, feeling clear-headed, loose-limbed and quite light on his feet. He ducked his head into the sitting room along the way, catching sight of Sherlock curled up into a tight ball on the sofa, seemingly fast asleep with his face pressed firmly into the back cushion.

_'Barmy git.'_ John felt a swift surge of affection and was inordinately pleased that the madman wasn't awake to see the rather dopey grin he knew he was sporting. Shaking his head, he went to shower, taking his customary ten minutes (thank you very much for taking notes on my wanking habits you nosy prat), and dried himself thoroughly before cleaning his teeth and brushing his damp hair back from his face.

Re-wrapping himself in his robe, John strode back into the kitchen and set about making two sets of tea and toast. He knew that if he didn't set something out for his flatmate, Sherlock simply wouldn't bother, and that disturbed him on both a professional and personal level, dammit. He put Sherlock's plate and mug on the coffee table, smiling when the consulting detective roused slightly, his long legs uncurling and stretching out along the sofa, his absurdly tactile toes wriggling into the cushion. John blushed rosily, suddenly imagining those digits wriggling against something else altogether. He shook off any lingering erotic thoughts and carried his own breakfast upstairs to his room, so he could eat as he got dressed.

Just as he got to his bedroom door, John heard the jangling noise that heralded a call from Mycroft to his brother. He grinned again at the faint but menacing growl that followed and then shut his door firmly. Not that he wouldn't be able to hear Sherlock if he did go on an anti-Mycroft tirade, but he still wanted to avoid bearing personal witness to their little family drama if he could.

John often wondered just why it was that Sherlock despised his brother so intensely. The elder Holmes _was_ an interfering prick, of course, but John didn't think that he was being deliberately malicious about it; he was just - overenthusiastic. Mycroft genuinely seemed to worry about his younger brother, and now, knowing more about Sherlock's past, John could hardly blame him. But then, sibling relationships are often fraught with tension, aren't they? He and Harry had never got on, especially as children. She certainly didn't feel the same kind of obligation toward familial duty that the elder Holmes obviously did. Hadn't ever worried about John at all, as far as he could tell. Hadn't cared about anyone but herself.

He shook off his lingering anger as he pulled on his jeans. No need for it, really. Just because she had been born first, that was no reason for Harry to be obligated to him at all. John's lips twisted as he recalled the first real blowout they had as kids, the first time that he had realised that she genuinely did not care for him at all. _'I didn't ask for you to be born, you little creep!'_

Yeah, nobody had asked for little Johnny Watson to be born. Even his mother, lost in one of her alcoholic stupors, had admitted that he was a mistake. Hell of a thing to tell a ten year-old kid, and of course she didn't even remember saying it the next day. No, she had just patted him on the head as he cleaned up after her, saying, _'You're a good boy, Johnny. You'll be a good man. Better than your goddamn father, at least. Although I'm not sure that's really saying much.'_

John shook his head again, closing his eyes for a moment. Stop. Just - stop. She's gone, Harry's off doing God knows what with God knows who, and none of it has anything to do with you. You're in a good place for once, even if it is all a bit mad, but you are needed, and you are loved. So what if the man who loves you is hesitant to say so outright - those are Greg's insecurities, and he has to work them out on his own, right? He blinked as he shoved the last bite of toast into his mouth and brushed the crumbs off his vest before slipping his arms into his shirt sleeves.

For that matter, Watson, what's holding you back from saying it, hm? No reason you can't be the first to take that leap, to put your heart in your hands and just hand it on over. Nope, no reason at all. Yeah, go on. Why not jump over that terrifyingly huge chasm and trust that he'll be there on the other side to catch you? John clenched his left hand into a sudden fist and then shook it out violently, the trembling making him fumble with his shirt buttons. He took a moment to breathe deeply, calming his racing mind, and a sudden stillness descended over him when John realised that he would be. No matter how deep or how long that gulf might be, Greg would always be on the other side, waiting to catch him and pull him in close. He _could_ trust in Gregory Lestrade.

He would say it, maybe tonight. It was stupid to keep acting like he didn't know his own mind, his own heart. He trusted Greg, and he loved him, and dammit, he was going to tell him so. Right.

John nodded curtly and started to tuck his shirt into his trousers, and just then, his door was flung open wide. Sherlock's eyes darted down to his hand, stuffed securely into his jeans, and then away, bright spots of colour blooming high on his cheekbones.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Sherlock! Knock first, you arse!"

John angrily resumed tucking, doing up his zip with a bit of unnecessary force as his flatmate rolled his eyes and looked everywhere but at his face. "Tedious."

"Common courtesy. Respect, goddammit." John sighed as Sherlock threw a confused look in his direction. He briefly turned his attention to buckling his belt before reaching for his jumper. "So why did you just come barging in here, then?"

"Latvia."

"Right." John frowned and blinked. "What?"

Sherlock sighed deeply, the most put-on sound John had ever heard, and he fought to keep from grinning. "A _beheading_ , John. In Latvia. Some person of importance, by my whale of a brother's estimation. They actually stuck his head on a spike and put it on display in the town square!"

John nodded carefully, pursing his lips as he watched the consulting detective practically prancing with excitement. "How...marvellous?"

Sherlock took a moment to calm himself, ruffling his hair unconsciously. "Isn't it just? Mycroft is sending me to investigate, because of course his goons are complete idiots. I simply wished to inform you that I will be gone for the next few days, most likely until Monday at the earliest."

John smirked and turned sharply on his heel to retrieve his overnight bag from the wardrobe. Sherlock watched with a bit of confusion as a couple of shirts and a fresh pair of jeans were neatly packed away.

"You aren't coming, John. In fact, Mycroft was quite adamant that I leave you behind, even though I argued rather vehemently."

"Oh no, I'm not coming with you, Sherlock."

"Then why?"  Sherlock's face cleared as John gave him a _look_. "Oh." He blushed again as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I see. Rather a good idea, actually. It will mean that you will be more relaxed and of far greater use to me when I return."

"Indeed it will." John continued to pack for a weekend at Greg's, studiously avoiding Sherlock's darting eyes, sure that he'd be able to deduce him in a hot second.

"John. May I ask..." The smaller man looked up in surprise. "I would like to know..."

"What is it?" John breathed out a little laugh at Sherlock's apparent discomfort. "You've never had any issue grilling me about my personal habits before."

Sherlock rolled his eyes even as his fingers tangled themselves together. "You are happier now. I just wanted to ensure that your lover does not resent the time that I take away from your relationship. Do they understand, do they accept the role that I have in your life? Because, i-if not, if I were to become an obstacle to your happiness..."

"Sherlock..." John swallowed as he looked up into those quicksilver orbs, uncharacteristically swimming with uncertainty and indecision. He reached out to clasp his upper arm, resisting the urge to call him 'love' and take him into his arms to soothe him. "Sherlock. I assure you, they -" He swallowed again, taking note of the careful avoidance of gendered pronouns, and decided to give his flatmate just a bit more than the basic information he was seeking. "He... He understands completely."

_"Oh."_ The exclamation was nearly silent, but the widening of the eyes and renewal of the hearty blush told John that his little reveal was somewhat of a surprise, although not an entirely unexpected one.

He squeezed Sherlock's arm gently. "He knows all about you, and you haven't come between us, not once. He respects the work that you do, he knows how important it is. Believe me, if this thing goes tits-up, it will have absolutely nothing to do with you."

The consulting detective blinked rapidly, his breath seeming to catch in his throat. "I-I sincerely hope that it does not."

John gave him another light squeeze and smiled brightly at the lingering blush. "Thank you, Sherlock. I appreciate that. I'm sure that he will too."

"And perhaps you are comfortable enough now to arrange a meeting? I must ensure that he is an appropriate suitor, of course."

John let out a quiet bark of laughter as he turned back to his bag, zipping it securely. "Gonna play the part of concerned family member, then? Subtly threaten him with bodily harm if he ever breaks my heart?"

Sherlock's nose wrinkled. "Not subtly at all, if it came to that. Since you have no-one else to act on your behalf in such a capacity, I would be more than happy to take on that role. He must be found worthy, after all."

John stood at the foot of his bed and gaped stupidly. _'So cute, Jesus, he's so stinking adorable I could snog the holy hell out of him, oh my God.'_ He snapped his thoughts back to Greg, and shook off his fugue. "I, um, well - I appreciate that, but he's been pretty well vetted. Has security clearance and all."

"Mycroft." Sherlock's voice hissed out between his teeth, his eyes narrowing dangerously. " _Mycroft_ knows who you are seeing, and I do not."

"Calm down. No fratricide, please. I _think_ he knows, that's all. It's not like we've met for tea and discussed it or anything. It's just a feeling, really. I mean, we both know that he keeps eyes on us, Sherlock. So he's bound to have seen something through CCTV at some point, right?" The consulting detective's eyes narrowed even further, a cunning look crossing his face. John sighed and held up a warning finger. "Stop. Take that thought and toss it in the rubbish bin _right now_. If you take any steps to discover who I'm seeing before I am ready to tell you, I will absolutely view that as a violation, and there will be nothing you can do to make it up to me. Let me tell you in my own time. Please." John paused, and took in a deep breath. "I think - yeah. I think it may be soon. But give me time, okay?"

Sherlock's mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes blinking rapidly again as he no doubt marshaled any number of arguments against John's request. Then he gave his curly head a sharp shake before nodding decisively. "Of course, John. I give you my word. Now, I must pack. I'm sure that the whale already has a car waiting..." The smaller man relaxed slightly as Sherlock turned toward the door, but looked up as his flatmate paused, turning back to him slightly, another healthy tinge of pink decorating his cheeks. "Despite my often egregious outward behaviour toward you, I _do_ respect you, John. More than anyone I've ever known."

John slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded with a slight smile. "Thank you, Sherlock. I'm off to the clinic, then, and good luck with your beheading. Feel free to text me any of the gory details."

The consulting detective's grin absolutely lit up the small room before he turned and flung himself down the stairs, calling out, "You may regret that offer before too long, Doctor Watson!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, dearie! :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg & John finally get some time to themselves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, hello there, my dears... A bit more in the continuing saga of Greg and John, lovely randy boys that they are.
> 
> Please do let me know how I'm doing, comments are sometimes literally all that keeps me going, my lovelies...
> 
> Kisses!

John made it to the clinic with a few minutes to spare, and tucked away his overnight bag before pulling out his phone and sending off a quick text to Greg.

_'I'm all yours for the weekend, sweetheart. M pulled S away on another of his mysterious cases.'_

Less than two minutes later, his mobile vibrated insistently at him from across his desk. John grinned and answered the call.

Greg's voice was breathless and low, almost intoxicating to John's ear. "Oh, Jesus, that's fucking fantastic. Let's skive off and get started early, whaddya say?"  
   
"I would say that you're quite incorrigible and an awful influence, that's what I would say."  
   
John could plainly hear the grin in Greg's voice, even as he whined at him nasally. "Oh, but _John_... Jesus, I haven't tasted you in so long and I'm going mad here."  
   
"You can be a responsible adult for at least eight hours, Gregory." He put as much of his command tone into his voice as he could muster over the phone, and smirked in response to Greg's impatient huff. "Besides, you're going to have me for the whole weekend."  
   
Another soft gust of breath in his ear, a quiet growl. "Fine. Yes, Captain. I will do my best to behave responsibly. Fuck's sake."  
   
John giggled brightly. "And well, it has been a while since..." He let his voice peter out, not entirely sure whether Greg would even want to see Edward after the nonsense he had pulled the last time they had seen him. John himself was feeling the urge, though - feeling a bit possessive. He wanted to let that out, wanted to watch Greg get taken, so that he could bloody well take him _back_ , dammit.  
   
"Edward?" Greg's voice was a little surprised. "Thought you might want me all to yourself for the next few days."  
   
"I do, but..." John fidgeted slightly, not entirely sure how to express his need to see them both under his control, to use Edward for his own gain, to show how much he loved Greg by grabbing hold of him once the intruder had been kicked to the kerb and marking him all up as his, only his.  
   
Greg surprised him then, with nothing more than a quiet _"Oh,"_ in his ear. "I get it, Captain."  
   
John laughed quietly, feeling his cheeks burning. "I'm glad you do, because I wasn't sure how I was going to explain myself."  
   
"No explanations necessary, John. I get it. I get you."  
   
"You do, don't you. You really, really do."  
   
They paused then, both of them striving to find the words to express themselves, both of them falling just a bit short of the eloquence that they were seeking, neither of them willing to just make a simple statement, even though they were both quite aware that was all that would be necessary. Greg shook their shared fugue off first. "Tomorrow night, then? At mine or the club?"  
   
"Set it up for the club."  
   
Greg chuckled in his ear. "You just want to see Geoff again, don't you? Want to put on another show for him, or maybe the other way 'round. Just dying to get your hands on that fabulous fur coat of his, yeah?"  
   
 _"Gregory!"_  
   
" _Pfft_. Wicked little thing."  
   
John giggled, despite his best efforts. "Hanging up now. I've already got a queue waiting on me."  
   
"Tonight, lover." Greg growled low and deep, the gravel of his voice raking right up John's spine.  
   
John groaned quietly and bit his lip. "Bastard." Greg's merry chuckle lingered in his ear before the call was disconnected, and for quite a bit afterwards as well.  
   
Greg sat back in his chair and squirmed slightly against the inconvenient nuisance that had popped up at nothing more than the sound of John's voice. He contemplated his mobile for a moment before composing a text to Edward.  
   
 _'Hey, E. You available to play Saturday night? Roundabout 9, at the club.'_  
   
The response was almost instantaneous, and Greg's eyebrows climbed up his forehead as he read it. _'About fucking time. Where the fuck have you been?'  
_    
 _'The hell, Edward?'  
   
'Four weeks. It's been a whole fucking month and I hadn't heard anything from you at all.'  
   
'Yeah, we were on a case. Doesn't matter anyway - this whole arrangement is at our discretion. We don't owe you anything, E. You know that.'_  
   
His phone was silent for such a long time that Greg started shuffling some of the papers on his desk, absently chewing on his lip as he filled out form after form before it buzzed perfunctorily.  
   
 _'You're right. I'm sorry. Yeah, I'll be there.'  
   
'You okay?'  
   
'Fine. I was worried, is all.'  
   
'?'  
   
'I'm not heartless, darling. Or stupid. I know that you do dangerous work sometimes, and I hadn't heard from you and I worried about you, okay? The tiny tyrant put restrictions on me contacting you and I was concerned, that's all.'_  
   
 _'I'm fine, E.'_ Greg chewed a little more. _'Try not to get so worked up. And knock off the name-calling.'  
   
'Yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow night.'_  
   
Greg sat back briefly, his eyes on his mobile. He had a feeling that they were nearing the end of Edward's usefulness, especially if he was suddenly coming over all irrationally emotional and shit. He grimaced slightly as his stomach rolled uncomfortably. Why now? Why was he trying to cling to him _now_ , when he had been so willing to give the giant arse just about anything he wanted all those years ago? Although... Geoff had said it on their one night together, hadn't he? Edward was greedy, and oblivious, used to things just falling into his lap. And now, well, he wasn't exactly the picture of the party-boy club-kid any longer... He was still fit, yeah, but not young, and youth was the number one commodity in the circles that Edward had chosen to travel in. Maybe it was nothing more than desperation, and perhaps he saw Greg as his last chance at happiness, at - anything, really. Jesus Christ, if that wasn't depressing as fuck...  
   
Although he had truly believed himself to be in love with Edward all those years ago, Greg knew that he had held back on something, held tight to a piece of his heart, because somewhere within him, he knew that of course he wasn't the one, that he didn't deserve his devotion. He was almost grateful that E had turned out to be such a prick, because if he hadn't been so obvious with his little extracurriculars, Greg would have clung to him back then, would have done what he could to cement himself to Edward's side, and holy fuck would that be a miserable existence now. Edward had shaken him off time and time again, and it seemed that it was just about time that he returned the favour.  
   
No, it hadn't been about love - not then. It had been lust and loneliness and nothing more. Now that he knew what love really was all about, now that he felt that damn swoop in his belly just about every time he looked at John and saw him looking back at him, those slate-blue eyes of his all warm and crinkled around the edges with pleasure... _Oh._ Now, that was real, and he really was going to hold on tight and never, ever let go. And John would let him, would hold him in return, and that was what it was all about. That was how he knew that he was really in deep, but he just couldn't find it in himself to care one whit.  
   
"You all right, boss? Looking a bit lost there..."  
   
Greg shook himself briefly and picked up his pen with a rueful sigh. "Yeah, sorry. Spaced a bit, that's all."  
   
"I'll say. That's one of the goofiest damn grins I've ever seen on that mug of yours." Greg put a hand to his mouth and tried to scrub the smile off of his face as Donovan laughed at him. "Nah, leave it. It was nice."  
   
Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Did you need something?"  
   
Sally looked him over with a twinkle in her eye and nodded toward the file on the top of the highest stack of papers on Greg's desk. "Thought of something else to check on that Petersen case. Mind if I take that back for a bit?"  
   
"Go for it. I doubt I'd be able to get to it anytime soon anyway."  
   
She ducked into his office and snatched up the file, grinning at him cheekily as she paused in the doorway on her way back out. "Got any relaxing plans for the weekend, then? Going out with that Watson later, aren't ya?"  
   
Greg cleared his throat uneasily, tugging his tie askew as she eyeballed him up and down. "Yeah, we do a pub thing when we can..."  
   
"Right, boss. A pub thing."  
   
"Oh, shove off." Greg ducked his head to hide his blush and forced himself to concentrate on the form in front of him, and not on Donovan's bubbling laughter as she retreated to her own desk.  
  
                     **********          **********          **********          **********          **********          **********          **********

John cursed as his overnight bag once again threatened to slip off his shoulder, fumbling with the takeaway and the key that Greg had given him a few weeks back. He briefly entertained the thought of simply tossing it all down in the corridor and sending Greg out to fetch it later when the lock finally clicked open and granted him access. He shoved his way inside and then simply let everything fall to the ground as he took in the sight of the frankly gorgeous man waiting for him on the sofa, clad only in his pants, grinning like a fool as two fingers lightly stroked his stiff cock through the flap of his boxers. John moaned and swayed in place, absentmindedly closing the door behind him and locking it back up securely. Without a word, he started to shed his clothing as he took the three steps necessary to place himself directly in front of his lover, unconsciously holding his breath as he stripped down.  
   
He finally took in a great draught of air as Greg's eyes travelled over his naked body lasciviously, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as he shimmied out of his pants and held out a hand. John shook his head slightly. "Want you to fuck me. Need you to."  
   
Greg's dark eyes went wide even as his grin sharpened. "Oh, I will. Anything you want, John. But later. It's been too long since I've felt you and I wouldn't even be able to get one finger into you without immediately popping off. So, first, we're going to go at it messy and fast and take that edge off, yeah? And then we're going to relax a bit and have a nibble or two, and then I'm going to take you into that bedroom and I'm going to take my time opening you up so I can fuck you nice and deep and slow, just the way you like it. How does that sound, hm?"  
  
 _"Guh."_ John practically fell into Greg's lap, straddling him and pressing his body in as close as he was able. After a searing kiss that left them both gasping for breath, the smaller man rolled his hips, rubbing his hard length against his lover's stomach, both of them throwing their heads back in bliss. John hissed as he swiped his hand up his own leaking cock before taking hold of Greg's, giving him a nice hard squeeze before beginning to fist him steadily. Greg groaned and returned the favour, burying his nose in the crook of John's neck and inhaling deeply as he stroked him in a firm rhythm.  
   
"Oh, fuck... The _smell_ of you, John. God, I've missed this. Missed you." Greg hummed as John clutched at his head with his free arm, holding him tight to his chest as he increased the pace of both his hand and his hips. "Want to feel you come on me, make me smell like you..."  
   
" _Hah_ , oh God... Yes, sweetheart. Oh, please... Just a bit..." Greg grinned against the pulse of John's heartbeat in his neck, moving his hand just a bit faster. "Yesss... Nearly there, God, needed your touch so badly and Jesus Greg, you get me there so _fast_ because you're so beautiful and I can't believe that I'm here with you and - oh - I could - I _could_..."  
   
Greg felt the eruption of sweat along John's skin and knew that it was just a matter of moments, so he opened his mouth and licked a long stripe up his neck and with a gentle but firm twist of his wrist, simply carried his lover right over the edge and then held him tight as he shuddered in his arms and came all over his hand and his belly in a flood. John released his grip on Greg's head and dropped his own onto his shoulder, his breath puffing out in hot bursts over his chest as he watched his hand continuing to work over his lover's thick cock. Greg hummed and shifted downward slightly, giving himself the room to thrust into the smaller man's firm grip. John began to employ his thumb, rubbing it over the head of Greg's cock and down the slit every time it popped out of the circle of his fingers.  
   
Greg groaned and threw his head back, closing his eyes and simply savouring the sensation. "Good, John. Jesus, that's _so_  good."  
   
"Mm. This prick... _Your_ prick, Gregory... Have I ever told you how much I adore it?"  
   
His lover smiled through soft pants for breath. "Once or twice, y-yeah. Oh _Jesus_..."  
   
"This morning when I had my wank, I thought about your lovely cock and you know what?" Greg just shook his head, almost afraid to open his mouth. "My arsehole twitched around nothing but air, like it was desperate to feel you deep inside. I almost thought I could feel you over me, inside me and I came imagining you sucking me off. It was like I could feel your hot mouth working me over, licking at me and fingering me until I begged. And the whole time, my hole was clenching and grasping for you, for your nice fat cock, wanting it to fill it up so badly. I want you to stuff me full, Greg. My arse needs you."  
   
With nothing more than a strangled gasp, Greg gave one more trembling thrust with his hips as John twisted his wrist, and then it was all over except for the sharp jerking of his stomach muscles as they contracted and his cock pumped out three strong bursts of hot come. John giggled with delight as he aimed it at his own belly, stroking Greg firmly from root to tip as another spurt dribbled out rather weakly. Greg opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the light before pulling John in close again, humming as his lover tucked his face into his neck. He heaved out a long, shuddering sigh. _"Jesus Christ."_ John giggled his assent, closing his own eyes as he was rocked slightly from side to side. Greg settled back, his broad, warm hands running from John's shoulder blades to his bum and back up again.   
   
John felt himself beginning to slip away, and abruptly straightened on his human chair, curtly shaking his head to return blood flow to his brain. "Food. And then more sex. No-one is allowed to fall asleep until I have been thoroughly fucked."  
   
Greg's body shuddered even as he let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Understood, Captain. Sounds like an excellent plan to me..."  
   
John smirked and reluctantly released his grip on his sticky prize and then shuffled backwards to get his feet underneath him. Holding out a hand to his lover, he pulled him upright and in the direction of the tiny bathroom. They were barely able to fit in there together, but they managed somehow, neither one of them willing to let the other out of his sight after not having any time to themselves for nearly an entire month. Greg wiped down first and then simply draped himself over John's back as he did the same, wrapping his arms around his trim waist once he was clean and burying his nose in his hair.  
   
"Too long, Jesus. I won't be able to survive that again, not being able to smell you, taste you... Not being able to hold you, _oh love._.."  
   
The last bit was barely more than a garbled whisper, but John felt a swift spike of warmth cascading into his chest and through his belly as his skin prickled with anticipation. He looked into the small mirror above the sink, but Greg's eyes were closed as he swayed slightly, rocking John against him in a gentle rhythm. It was just an endearment, after all. It was nothing that either of them hadn't said at one point or another, although that particular phrase was rather rare. John bit his lip as his mind raced over his resolution from earlier in the day. He could say it now, could say it after that initial blast of oxytocin had faded away, and it would mean something, wouldn't it? It wouldn't just be the result of that rush of bonding hormones, no, it would be a simple statement that would carry gravitas and meaning, and Greg would look at him with his eyes soft and dark and he would say it back, and that would be that. It would finally be out in the open, and not just a secret that they were both holding close within their hearts and heads. He loved this man, and he knew that he loved him in return. He _knew_ it. Absolutely. Right? John opened his mouth, but his throat suddenly went quite dry, and threatened to close up on him even as he forced breath through. He dropped his head, running his fingers along Greg's arms, and closed his mouth again. _'Coward.'_ Greg hummed and tightened his hold as John shivered slightly. _'You are such a fucking coward, John Watson.'_  
   
"C'mon, then." John looked up abruptly and met Greg's eyes in the mirror, wondering if his comment was meant to spur him into finally blurting out the words that his lover must have known that he was cradling on his tongue. "Let's throw on our robes so we aren't freezing, and see if we can salvage your takeaway."  
   
John smiled crookedly as a tidal wave of relief washed over him and he nodded, letting Greg lead him out of the bathroom and then back into the sitting room after they had slipped on the barest scraps of clothing and tied them up loosely, both of them stealing little peeks and sharing naughty giggles as the robes gaped here and there. They reheated the chips and chicken strips in the oven, and then sat on the floor in front of Greg's small telly and watched crap programming while they fed each other, blushing and laughing at themselves the whole while. They carefully avoided filling their bellies completely, eating just enough to take the edge off their hunger, ensuring that any further activities wouldn't be hampered by any uncomfortable or embarrassing bodily functions. John cleared away what was left, coming back out from the kitchen to find Greg propped up against the front of the sofa, his legs spread slightly. The smaller man took the invitation immediately, lounging back against his lover's chest and sighing contentedly as his shoulders were rubbed gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, dearie! :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets what he's been waiting for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for smut! Woo! Yes oh yes... ;-p
> 
> Please comment, let me know how I'm doing... Speak to the fickle muse so that she may keep weaving these terribly distracting tales in my head so that I might share them with you... 
> 
> *mwah*!

It wasn't long before Greg's fingers found their way underneath the collar of John's robe, and he smirked even as his body shuddered at the feeling of an almost imperceptible touch along his neck, dipping around and down to trace the slight protrusion of his clavicle. Greg hummed and bent forward, nosing along John's hairline and behind his ear, letting out a quiet sigh that made him shiver at the sensation of warm breath ghosting over the back of his neck. John let his head drop forward as Greg brushed his lips over his skin, closing his eyes and simply allowing himself to feel. With another little grin, he worked the tie on his robe loose and shimmied his shoulders until the fabric slipped slightly, gasping as Greg nipped at his neck in thanks.  
   
Greg didn't hesitate to free John's arms from the restriction of his dressing gown, taking his time as he worked the fabric all the way down and then reached around his body to pull it open. He ran his fingers from side to side along his finely muscled torso, up and down, as he kissed at the nape of John's neck, tonguing at his spine and nibbling lightly. Every move he made was slow and deliberate, firm and yet gentle. And at nearly every touch, John gasped and shivered, gooseflesh running over his body in waves. His arousal was slow too, but deep within him, plumping up his cock so that it lay heavy between his legs, but not desperate, not throbbing. Greg hummed again as John's head went back against his shoulder, as he squirmed in his hold.  
   
"Well. In't that just a lovely sight?" Greg peeked over his shoulder, and with the lightest of touches, simply ran one finger from root to tip and back again several times, petting John's cock delicately, as one might a small fuzzy kitten.  
   
John writhed a little more, growling quietly in frustration as the fabric bunched up between his body and his lover prevented him from feeling the delightful erection that he knew Greg must have been sporting as well. "I need you inside me. Please."  
   
Greg laughed quietly and delicately nipped at his flesh some more. "Your wish, my command, sweetheart." He released John briefly and dug around in the pocket of his robe, finally coming up with a bottle of lube. He shook it at his lover in a tantalising manner. "Bedroom, then?"  
   
John scrambled to his knees and shifted about a bit, grabbing hold of his dressing gown and spreading it out on the floor. "Here." He flopped down on his back and spread his legs invitingly, straining his neck awkwardly to look at Greg as he paused, taking in the quite wondrous view that John was presenting to him so nicely. _"Now."_  
   
"Oh? And what happened to nice and deep and slow, hm?"  
   
John groaned as Greg started to shed his robe, laying it out next to his. He licked his lips as that wonderful thick cock bobbed up, and his arsehole bloody well twitched again. "Yes, yes. Only hurry!"

Greg snorted out a quiet laugh, but obligingly stretched out next to him, popping the lid on the lube and generously slicking up his two middle fingers. John turned toward him, instantly drawing one knee up to give his lover unfettered access. He trembled as Greg tickled at his bollocks and fingered his perineum, rubbing along the seam firmly until he came to his hole, circling his entrance with an almost unbearably light and teasing touch. John gasped and Greg's dark eyes went even darker as he caressed the puckered flesh, just barely dipping the tip of his finger in and then withdrawing, only go back to the random circling once again.  
   
"Please, Greg. Need to feel you, oh, _please_ , love..." John almost sobbed out of his desperation, holding tight to Greg's arm as he tried to push into his hand, and his lover finally took pity, neatly sliding his middle finger in all the way. John's body tensed, his back arching beautifully, and Greg had to clamp down on the swift welter of emotion that nearly overwhelmed him at the sight of his lover taking his pleasure from him. Instead of speaking, he took John's mouth in a fierce kiss, continuing to invade that tight little body with slow, deep thrusts of his finger, moving it in small circles as his lover clung to him and rocked into his steady motions.

John pulled away slightly, the muscles in his neck straining as his head was thrown back. "Another." His voice was high and breathless, his grip on Greg's arm tightening almost to the point of pain.

Greg shook his head and stilled his hand, pressing his finger in deep, but not moving it at all. John whimpered quietly and loosened his hold, forcing his body to relax. "That's it. I've got you, you're right where you need to be, yeah?"

"Yes. Right here - with you. There's nowhere else I could be." John trailed his fingers up Greg's arm, over his shoulder, to his face. He let his touch linger at his jawline, up over his cheeks and then tracing along his lips, smiling as they trembled under his touch.

Greg blinked at him serenely as he pushed himself up on his elbow. "I won't let you down, John."

"I know, Greg." His back arched again as his lover wiggled the finger that was buried deep. " _Oh._ God, yes." John sighed as he let his body go completely slack, his hand falling away from Greg's face to land on his own ribs.

Greg groaned slightly as he resumed opening him up. "Jesus, you're so hot. So firm, so slick. It's going to be so fucking  _amazing_ when you let me in there without anything covering me up."

" _Uhn._ Not yet, Gregory. Some day, yes, but I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart." He withdrew his middle finger almost all the way and slotted his ring finger in next to it, gently pumping only an inch or so into John's body with every thrust. "I'm not going to push you into something you're not ready for." Greg grinned down at John as he abruptly shoved those two fingers deep, licking his lips at his lover's delighted gasp. "I'm just anticipating, that's all."

John grinned back as best he could, his entire body shivering as he rolled his hips slightly. "Yeah. I may know a thing or two about anticipation, you horrible fiend. _Ngh_ , God, I've been thinking about this, needing this for so long... Needing _you_."

Greg rewarded him for this admission, swiftly plunging his fingers in deep and fast for a few strokes, moaning quietly as John stiffened and let out a pleasured grunt with each thrust. "God, me too. Next long case, we're gonna have to figure out a way to distract Sherlock long enough to at least get a blowjob or two in there somewhere..."

"Oh _Jesus_ , yes, just like that... Or a quick fuck down some filthy alleyway, behind some rubbish bins, whatever. I could be ready for you, oh fuck _yes_ , could take a little time to work a plug up my arse before that damn madman hauls me out of the flat by my ear, and wherever we happen to end up, you could just take me right then and there. Fuck like randy animals out in the open, _mmph_ oh God..."

Greg laughed quietly before resuming his slow, steady pace. "You're trying to get me all riled up, you dirty little thing. Clever, but it won't work."

"Need you, love. Oh fuck!" John's eyes flew open wide and his body jerked hard as Greg crooked his fingers just so, as he fluttered the tips against that small spongy mass. "Fuck yes... Oh, Greg, _please_... Want you, _need_ you."

"You have me, love."

"Not all of you, goddammit."

Greg burst out into merry laughter and withdrew, drizzling a little more lube on his hand before adding his index finger to the mix. He slid them all in easily and shuddered at John's loud groan as he once more began to wiggle his digits deep. He resumed a steady rhythm, pulling out nearly all the way before pushing his way back in, slow and deep. His body shuddered at every noise that John made, at every involuntary jerk of that tight golden body. He abruptly went to his knees next to him, withdrawing nearly all the way. He almost lost it completely as he watched John's arsehole clench and twitch around just the very tips of his fingers, his body striving to reach out and pull him back in. John whimpered as Greg stared, utterly transfixed.  
   
"Oh, _love_..."  
   
"Please, Greg. For the love of God would you just please, oh please..."  
   
"Yes." Greg thrust his hand in deep again, grinning wickedly at John's loud shout. He nodded down at his dressing gown, still more or less spread out next to his poor victim. "Condom in one of the pockets there... You'll have to do the honours, 'cause I'm not moving these fingers until I've got something else ready to shove up there."  
   
John scrabbled at Greg's robe desperately, cursing vociferously as the first pocket came up empty. The search of the second pocket proved to be more fruitful, and he simply ripped the foil packet open with his teeth before leaning up slightly and neatly sheathing Greg's cock. "Where's the... Oh, for fuck's sake!" Greg giggled as John once more frantically dug around in the pile of fabric, brandishing the lube with a triumphant flourish. He popped the cap and then cursed again as Greg wiggled his fingers, causing him to jump and nearly drop the bottle. Rather than spreading it with his hand, he just upended the bottle and squeezed out a healthy dollop. "Get on with it."  
   
"So pushy..." Greg took his free hand and dabbled his fingers in the lube, quickly and efficiently spreading it over his stiff prick.  
   
"How do you want me?"  
   
"Just like this, on your side."  
   
John twisted his torso slightly and gave him a befuddled look, but Greg just grinned at him and straddled the leg that was stretched out straight, pulling the knee that was already held at an angle up over the front of his body. Settling down on his heels slightly, he finally removed his hand and probed at John's entrance with the head of his cock, breathing out a soft gust of air as it popped it with no resistance. He shuffled just a bit closer and thrust smoothly, both of them stiffening abruptly as he slid all the way in to the root.  
   
"Oh _fuck_ , John..."  
   
" _Ngh_. I - I... Ohhhh... Finally, Jesus fuck, _finally_ oh fuck... Yesyesyessss..." John heaved out a solid breath and gave his lover a dirty look. "Move, goddammit."  
   
Greg shook his head and clutched at the top of John's thigh, pressing himself closer to his body. "Only if you want this over really fucking quick, Captain."  
   
John growled with frustration, but capitulated as he flopped back down, cushioning his head on his arm. "All right. Take your time, then. Pay absolutely no attention to the man languishing with mindless desire underneath you."  
   
John gasped as Greg let out a sharp bark of laughter, which drove his prick even further into his body. "And you call me melodramatic."  
   
" _Ugh_ , God... I don't think either of us could possibly compare to Sherlock..."  
   
"Heh." Greg attempted a little exploratory thrust, sighing with relief when he didn't immediately pop off. "Not only melodramatic, sweetheart. I imagine that if something were to set that great git off, he'd become quite demanding as well." He grinned as John reached down to clutch at one of his thighs. "Although you may have him beat in that category... Pushy and greedy, fuck yes."  
   
John grunted as Greg thrust again, one long smooth slide in and out. "I dunno... If it were your cock that provided that first taste, I'm sure that he'd give me a run for my money." He groaned as Greg rolled his hips, humming with pleasure as he ground in deep. " _Unh_. Fuck. Imagine it. Him and me, both of us open and willing, on our knees, just waiting for you. Who would you fuck first, hm?"  
   
Greg took in a deep breath and began to move slowly, holding John's leg up just a bit higher. "So _good_ , Jesus... Mm... You _and_ Sherlock, huh? Both of your fine arses in the air, both of you begging for me?" He laughed quietly. "Fuck if I know. Probably take turns, yeah? Fuck you a little, switch over to him for a minute or two... Use my fingers on whoever wasn't stuffed full with my cock, if I was in a giving mood."  
   
"And if not?" John sighed as his body was pushed and pulled with the rhythm of his lover's steady if gentle pounding. The angle was a bit odd, but with Greg essentially fucking him sideways, he almost felt fuller, and although his hole did still give out the occasional twitch, it seemed to be very satisfied with this particular position. He let out an indistinct grunt as Greg angled a bit to the side, glancing over his prostate haphazardly.  
   
"Well, there is a difference between begging and demanding, y'know. I'd probably fuck the one who begged the sweetest, wouldn't I? Fuck him until he came screaming my name, leaving the other one frustrated. But whoever was left behind would learn, wouldn't he? Learn to beg instead of demand, maybe even just keep his mouth shut until I slid into him and then he sure as hell wouldn't be able to stay quiet, would he, sweetheart?"  
   
John gasped and moaned as Greg pulled back and thrust in hard. "No, not quiet at all. Jesus God, yes. _Again_. Please."  
   
"There we go. A bit of both, yeah? Demanding _and_ begging. That's lovely."  
   
John twisted his torso slightly so that he could look Greg full in the face, reaching up to try to draw him down slightly. "Kiss me, Greg. Please."  
   
"Mm." Greg complied, pulling John up so they could reach each other, their mouths moving against one another as he continued to move languidly. They both felt their arousal as something low and deep within them, a simmering pool that could easily overflow, if only - if only... John let out another broken sob/grunt/moan that had Greg's spine contorting, and he froze for just a moment, swiftly taking up another rhythm, one that moved just a bit quicker, but no less deep.  
   
"Greg..." Another gasp as the head of that lovely prick slid over his sweet spot. "Greg, please. This is gorgeous, it really is, but it's not going to get me there and yes I adore slow and deep but not this slow _please_ sweetheart, please. You're tormenting me, for God's sake."  
   
Greg nipped at John's lower lip as he grinned, taking his time with another ferocious kiss. "You want to ride me, then? On your back, on your knees? How do you want it, John? How do you want me to violate you?"  
   
"I - I... Oh fuck, I don't _know!_ " John shook his head desperately. "Just - anything, please, oh Jesus..."  
   
Greg paused briefly, shifting John's upper leg around his body and sliding his knees in between, neatly flipping his lover over on his back without needing to withdraw. John instantly drew his knees up toward his chest, spreading his thighs wide as Greg planted his hands on the floor on either side of his torso. He immediately resumed his fucking, both of the men groaning in relief at the sensation, Greg filling John as he needed him to, taking his pleasure from that tight little arse. John reached out to encourage Greg onto his elbows, cupping his hand at the back of his neck as he tugged him down. His lover obliged, sliding his hands underneath and around John's shoulders, holding tight as his hips snapped forward in a ruthless, steady pattern.  
   
"John, oh fuck..."  
   
"Yes, _yes_. So fucking good, Jesus Greg, I love the way you fill me up and you're right, _oh God_ \- when that day comes, when I feel you bare and hot inside me and you come deep oh fucking Lord... I want that - I want you to fill me up with your come and watch as it drips back out of me, maybe even clean me all up with your tongue, oh sweet _Jesus_ what do you think about that?"  
   
" _Nghk_. I think... Oh Christ. I think - that you'd have to - _fuck_..." Greg slid one hand down in between their bodies and began to fist John's cock hard and fast, thrusting deeper still. "I think you'd have to return the fucking favour, that's what I think."  
   
John's head bounced against the floor as his back arched suddenly, his entire body stiffening and shuddering as his lover neatly wrung his orgasm right out of him. "FUCK. Fucking hell, yes _yes_ YES." He let out another shout as Greg continued to stroke him through it all, intently watching his face as the hot spurts of come shot out of his prick and all over his chest. With a quiet snarl, John pulled him in close and sank his teeth into Greg's neck, growling with satisfaction as he abruptly stopped thrusting, pushing in deep as he could as his cock twitched and jerked within him.  
   
They held each other tight for a long moment, sharing every little shake and shudder of the aftermath of a pair of quite spectacular orgasms, and then Greg suddenly collapsed on top of John with a long groan. The smaller man giggled slightly before managing to manoeuvre his lover onto his back so he could straddle him, somehow keeping his cock firmly in place the whole while. He smeared the mess that he had left behind over his belly, spreading it over Greg's skin as well, until he captured his hand and brought it to his lips. With a gentle smile, Greg flickered his tongue over the tips of John's fingers, licking at each one with just the lightest of touches.  
   
John stared down at him, his dark eyes lazy and satisfied, his face flushed, his silver hair matted down with sweat. His mouth flopped open of its own accord and let slip, "Christ but you're the most _gorgeous_ thing I've ever seen," all in a rush.

Greg blushed a bit harder, raising one hand to rake his fingers through his hair, raising it up in even messier silver spikes. "I'm sure I look an absolute fright, you terrible fibber."

"No." John shook his head as he traced the lines of his lover's face. "No lie. Your post-sex face is honestly one of the wonders of the universe, Greg. You're so relaxed, so open. You let your guard down, and it is - beautiful."

"Same could be said of you, Captain Watson." Greg wrapped his broad hands around John's ribs, squeezing gently. "Only for you, it's right in the moment, right when it hits you. Your eyes go so wide and so dark, it's like I can see infinity. And then your mouth opens as your head goes back and even though I've made you come, I always feel like you're giving something back to me. I could watch you come a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough."  
   
John bit his lip as he looked down at his lover, who simply smiled up at him softly. Once again he found his mouth opening, but rather than letting his tongue wag, he ducked down and slipped it into Greg's mouth. He put all of himself into the kiss, desperately trying to convey what he was feeling without having to actually say the words. Greg hummed into his mouth and ran his lovely warm hands around to John's backside, giving it a good hard squeeze. John squirmed slightly, feeling something more in the touch, something proprietary, perhaps. Laying claim to his body, to his heart. He sighed as they broke apart, both of them struggling to regain their breath.

John squirmed and wriggled again, tucking his face into Greg's chest, letting his body relax, melting into his lover as a bone-deep contentment settled under his skin. Greg hummed again as he wrapped his arms around him loosely and simply held on.

They lay together like that until Greg started to fidget slightly, and John turned a fierce scowl on him. "Sorry, my sweet. Next time we'll have to be patient enough to make it to the bed. This damn floor is starting to dig holes in my spine."

John rolled his eyes and started to sit up, wincing as their bellies peeled away from each other with an unpleasant noise and a far more unpleasant feeling. "Uh, fucking hell, _ouch_." Greg looked at him and burst into giggles, and although John made a valiant effort to maintain his grumpy face, he just couldn't hold it. He quirked a crooked smile down at his lover before levering himself to his feet and holding out a hand. "So much for being all romantic and whatnot, hm?"  
   
Greg allowed him to pull him to his feet. "Can't be serious all the time, can we?" He made a face as he peeled the condom off and went to bin it in the bathroom, taking a moment to wash up and clean his teeth. He emerged into the bedroom to find John standing by the door, waiting his turn. They exchanged gentle kisses as they shuffled around each other, and Greg popped out into the sitting room to do a swift security check.

John had locked up when he had arrived, he knew that, but Greg's own protective instincts would not allow him to sleep properly without his own checks and balances being put in place. Satisfied on that score, Greg finally slipped into bed, snuggling down on John's side to pre-warm it for him. Wouldn't take long, of course. Just a - a minute or, um - two...

John came out of the bathroom to find his lover firmly planted in his usual spot, fast asleep. Shaking his head fondly, he clambered over his unmoving form and tucked himself in next to him before reaching out to switch off the lamp on the bedside table. In the dim light streaming in from the outside, John watched Greg's chest rise and fall with steady respiration until his own eyes grew heavy, and everything went blessedly dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, dearie! :)
> 
> I also wanted to add that I do have a tumblr. I don't think I'll be posting any teasers or anything like that, but I will be tossing out notifications, since it seems that AO3 hasn't been informing a few of my loyal readers. You can find me at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com' if you'd like.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants a day out. Greg is only too happy to oblige...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't visited with these lovelies in a while due to being caught up with Greg and Myc's new story. I do hope this satisfies after being gone for so long.
> 
> I sincerely wish everyone a lovely holiday season - much love to you all!
> 
> (Please do help to feed the muse with your comments, she's just a bloodthirsty thing these days!)

They woke together, more or less.  
   
John blinked groggily at Greg's gorgeous sleep-rumpled face. "Your pillows are too hard."  
   
Greg grunted and cleared his throat as he stretched out on his back. "And a good morning to you too, sunshine."  
   
After trading foolish grins, John rolled off the bed to take the first turn in the loo and came back out to find Greg sitting on the edge of the mattress, looking unfairly handsome as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and ruffled at his silver hair. John tucked himself into his body briefly, and then heaved him up and through the door, immediately settling down into his accustomed place in the bed. He closed his eyes and sighed lustily as he wriggled deep into the warmth left behind by his lover's body, steadfastly ignoring the slight chuckle from somewhere in the room.  
  
The dip in the mattress a couple of minutes later was a little harder to ignore, especially when Greg snuggled in close, his body heat luring John to turn to his side, to turn into that glorious radiating warmth. Rather than opening his eyes, he simply planted his face right into Greg's chest, mumbling his approval into soft-scratchy hair as strong arms were wrapped around him securely. After a few minutes of lazy, contented petting, John tilted his head back and wriggled upwards in the bed slightly, aligning their mouths so that the languid stroking nicely segued into an exchange of tender, soft kisses.

Neither of them were fully alert quite yet, although they both found that certain parts of their anatomies most definitely were. They shifted apart slightly, giving those bits just enough room to bloom and grow between them, but otherwise keeping mostly still, just their hands and mouths moving against each other with unhurried sensuality. Greg moaned quietly as John wound his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head, pulling it back to grant him easier access to his neck.

Soft kisses and gentle sucks were punctuated with sharp nips at his skin as John worked his way back up and along to his earlobe. Greg's grip around his waist tightened and he quite deliberately rolled his hips, grinding their hard cocks together with a delicious friction. John growled as his body shuddered, his teeth clamping down on the flesh of Greg's neck firmly. This, of course, caused his silver-haired lover to jerk abruptly, and their stiff pricks rubbed up against each other once more.

With another low growl, John wriggled in closer before pushing Greg down onto his back, neatly rolling on top of him. Greg grinned as he ran his hands along the sides of John's thighs and around, giving his very firm arse an even firmer squeeze. The man writhing above him let out a wanton moan and reached behind to grasp at Greg's cock, neatly demonstrating the strength of his own small hand. Greg gasped as his back arched, and John smirked slightly as he rode out the undulating wave of his lover's body. He clambered onto the mattress at Greg's side momentarily, reaching into the drawer of the bedside table for supplies. Greg grinned as he brought his arms up, folding his hands under his head.

"Didn't get enough of my prick last night, Captain?"

"After three weeks of not having it at all? I believe the answer to your question is not only 'no', but, ' _hell_ no'." John ripped open a condom and rolled it over Greg's wonderful cock without delay, lubing it up generously. "And since you're the one getting fucked this evening, I figured I might as well take advantage while I could."

Greg hummed noncommittally as John swiped the excess lube up his own crack before straddling him again. He kept his arms under his head as his lover manhandled him into position, keeping his cock held upright with one hand and bracing himself against Greg's sternum with the other as he slowly and inexorably impaled himself. John simply let his body weight pull him all the way down, until the curve of his bottom met the cradle of Greg's hips. He slid down fairly easily, after all, Greg had worked him open quite thoroughly the night before, so he was still somewhat loose, still relatively slick.

They both groaned as he settled himself, rocking back and forth and side to side slightly. Greg took the opportunity to reach down, caressing golden skin and raising his knees to plant his feet on the mattress. Other than that, however, he remained as still as he could, more than willing to let John simply take what he needed from him. John leaned back against the solid support of Greg's thighs, sighing with delight as he wriggled his bum this way and that, simply relishing the feel of that thick, hard flesh buried impossibly deep.  
   
John smirked as he lounged, casually stroking his lover's belly, up and down, side to side. Greg's breath caught as John's slate-blue eyes flickered over his face, his grin suddenly sharpening. At that moment, he tightened all of the muscles in his abdomen and lower, clamping down hard onto Greg's cock. He giggled as his poor victim tensed and threw his head back with a curse, his hands clutching tight to the bedclothes. Greg let out a quivering moan that tapered off into a sigh as he was slowly released. John let out a pleasured sound of his own as he let his muscles go slack, grinding down hard to take Greg in deeper. Knowing what to expect didn't make it any easier on Greg when John did it again, and he once again cursed as those magnificent muscles tensed and quivered around him, holding him firm as his tiny sex god lifted himself up ever-so-slightly before sinking back down, only to do it all over again. And again. And oh good God - _again_.  
   
They didn't speak, only the sounds of their bodies moving together and soft gasps for air breaking the silence between them. Although John tried to tease his silver-haired lover by going hard and yet slow, once those deep brown eyes locked onto his, he was of course quite carried away. He barely even noticed as Greg braced his hands on his hips and started to push into him faster and deeper. It wasn't long before he felt his release building, and he tried to break their eye contact so he could hold on just a little while longer, he really did, but then something in Greg's face softened, and he grinned that damnable wicked grin even as his eyes shone, and John simply lost it. He gasped out a choked cry as his body bowed, and he gripped Greg's forearms tight, his prick jumping and letting fly in hot streaks over his lover's stomach and up his chest.  
   
Greg let out a strangled noise of his own as his face flushed a deep red, his fingers digging into John's flesh so hard that he knew he would be sporting visible marks before the day was out. John held on as best as he could, once again clutching tight with his inner muscles, watching eagerly as Greg strove for his finish, wishing he could make it last even as his body started to protest the over-stimulation. He winced slightly as that lovely cock grazed his prostate, but as there was another incoherent babbling from the man beneath him, his hips left the mattress completely, driving so hard and so deep that John was almost thrown completely clear. He tightened his thighs around him and then giggled slightly as Greg's body suddenly went utterly slack, landing back on the bed with an audible _whump_.

John dabbled his fingers in the slick that he had left behind on Greg's belly before reaching over and snagging a couple of tissues for a hasty wipe-down. He groaned quietly as he lifted himself off of his lover's body, only to reach down and relieve him of the soiled condom. He swiftly wrapped it up and tossed it aside, once more straddling Greg's waist and tucking his head down onto his chest. Greg let out a noise of deep satisfaction, a heady mix of sigh-laugh-growl that had John's stomach fluttering and his body relaxing, almost against his will.  
  
An idea suddenly struck him. John tugged sharply on Greg's chest hair and put his chin on his sternum, smiling as he cracked one eye open and grinned dazedly down at him in return. "Take me for a drive, Gregory."  
   
Greg wiggled himself up higher on the pillows, casting a glance toward the one window in the room before tilting his head in thought. "Looks like it's going to be a pleasant enough day - anywhere particular you had in mind, Captain my Captain?"  
   
John tapped his finger on one dusky nipple as he appeared to contemplate his question, his spine arching into the almost maddeningly light touch that his lover was using to stroke up and down his back. "Brighton, I think."  
   
Greg blinked at him before grinning broadly. "Yeah?"  
   
John sat up slowly, running his hands down Greg's torso as he pulled himself upright. "Yeah. The beach, sun on our skin, maybe a bit of a frolic in the water..." He blushed suddenly. "Getting some ice creams and walking on the pier holding my sweetheart's hand, just like any other besotted fool who happens to wander by."  
   
Greg returned John's touch, trailing his fingers along his sternum and down to his navel. "Besotted, huh?" John just nodded mutely, swallowing audibly as his stomach roiled uneasily. It wasn't 'it' of course, 'it' was still stuck somewhere between his diaphragm and his throat, but it was close enough. From the dopey grin on Greg's face, it would certainly suffice for the moment. "Mm, sounds perfect. Yeah, let's. It's only a couple of hours drive, and it's pleasant enough country along the way. We could meander a bit on the way down if you'd like."  
   
John squirmed as Greg pinched at the tiny roll of chub around his waist. "Knock that off, you bastard." He grinned as his lover broke out into a belly laugh. "Nah, let's just get down there so we can lay on the beach for a bit. We'll save the country drive for another day." His blush somehow deepened. "Maybe I'll even put together a picnic basket so we can be all stupidly romantic and sappy on our next adventure."  
   
John squirmed some more as Greg simply stared at him, his chocolate-brown eyes wide and disbelieving. He suddenly found himself on his back as his silver-haired lover flipped him over with ease and hovered over him, tracing the lines of his face with one broad finger. "Jesus. Just when I thought you couldn't get any sexier, or any more freaking adorable..."  
   
 _"Oi!"_ John reached down and smacked Greg's arse hard, earning a deep moan and breathy chuckle.  
   
"Oh, but you are, you little bugger." The prostrate man giggled helplessly as Greg ran his lips over his neck and along his collarbone. "Your cheeks are absolutely flaming right now, and it's so cute it's making me want to just eat you all up, for fuck's sake. _Rawr_." He opened his mouth wide and bit down on John's good shoulder, digging his teeth in firmly.  
   
"Ow, you shit!" John giggled some more, helplessly thrashing underneath his lover's rampaging mouth and wandering hands. He shoved at Greg's torso, but his attempts to throw him off were only halfhearted at best. "Off, you beast. If we don't get out of here soon, we won't have much time to lounge around down there. We do have an appointment tonight, you know."  
   
"Hm. We could tell E to bugger off - just spend the night down there. Lots of little hotels and hideaways..."  
   
"No." John shook his head. "I - I don't know why, but I'm actually looking forward to seeing that enormous arsehole tonight." Greg pushed himself up on his hands and quirked one extremely sceptical eyebrow down at him. "All right, so I'm looking forward to him seeing to _you_ , then. And the aftermath, of course."

Greg suddenly blushed bright red. "Right you are." He cleared his throat with an embarrassed grin. "You want first dibs at the shower? I can make some tea and toast, maybe fry up a couple of eggs..."

John immediately pulled a face. "I do not want to start off what promises to be a lovely day with the toxic sludge that you consider tea sitting in my gut like a lump of lead."

"Ta, you little fucker."  
   
John rolled his eyes and poked at Greg's sides, making the older man jump with a startled gasp and roll away from him, flopping flat on his back on the mattress. "This is what's gonna happen. You shower while I make tea, and then while I'm making myself presentable, you'll cook up brekkie. Somewhere in between we will both get dressed and then we will get the hell out of here. How's that sound?"  
   
Greg's eyes softened again as he propped himself up on one elbow and reached for John's hand. He brought it up to his mouth and ran his lips over his knuckles gently. "Sounds a bit like a team project. A rather domestic one, at that."  
   
It was John's turn to blush as his stomach flipped again. "I happen to think that we make a rather good team, Gregory." Greg hummed as they rolled into one another, once again trading gentle kisses. The aggravating butterflies in John's stomach started to settle as his lover caressed him idly, the warmth of his hands sinking deep into his body. Now, yes, now would be a good time, fucking _fantastic_ , actually, but every time he even thought about opening his mouth, Greg was there, his lips pressing onto his heatedly, but without urgency, without need. John sighed happily. Maybe 'it' didn't need to be said? Maybe this was all that was needed, their touch upon one another's body, the invisible marks left behind by their mouths and fingers. Greg growled suddenly, and John gasped as his skin prickled all over, his hands pushing at his lover once again. "Off. Shower." Greg chuckled quietly as he ducked his face down, running the tip of his tongue over one delightfully golden-brown nipple. There was another intoxicating gust of breath as John's back arched, pushing his chest into his mouth. "Now, you bastard. Get off me."  
   
Greg sighed with exasperation and reluctantly complied, rolling off of his lover's body and continuing to roll until he nearly fell off the mattress, coming to his feet with a little thump. "Fine. You're such a killjoy."  
   
"I'm a _what_ now?" John rolled over and quickly wriggled across the bed, reaching out to pinch Greg's bum hard. The older man yelped and jumped away, turning to stick his tongue out before slamming the door to the bathroom. John sighed again and found himself grinning at the ceiling as he shook his head. He waited until he heard the water start up, the pipes groaning audibly, before tossing on his dressing gown and going out to the kitchen to fill up the kettle.  
   
He came back a few minutes later to find Greg digging through his bureau, a damp towel around his waist, his wet hair dripping down his back. John watched with keen interest as one drop slowly meandered in between his shoulder blades, briefly entertaining the thought of licking it away. He shook his head. No, that would just be borrowing trouble, wouldn't it? He placed Greg's mug in front of him and watched from around his arm as he shifted piles of clothing this way and that.  
   
"Thought I had... Bugger." He tossed a grin in John's direction. "Pretty sure I have at least one pair of swim trunks in here somewhere. Might have something you can borrow." John nodded sagely as he sipped at his tea and then passed by him on the way to the bathroom, unable to resist delivering a swift but devastating bum pinch. _"Oi!"_ Greg chuckled as John nimbly scooted out of his reach. "What do you want to eat, then?"  
   
John paused at the door. "Something simple. Toast, maybe a couple of eggs. I'd like to get out of here soonest, love."  
   
"You may regret that after a couple of hours of being stuck in a tin can with only my music to entertain you."  
   
John rolled his eyes. "Oh, I think I'll come up with a way to entertain myself if necessary." He disappeared into the bathroom with a little smirk.  
   
Greg resolutely did not allow himself to even contemplate what mischief his lover might come up with - he was such a naughty little thing, after all...

He found his trunks in the bottom drawer, slipping them on with a little grin. It had been a couple of years, and he distinctly remembered them being a bit snug the last time he had worn them. Regular - ahem - activity with John seemed to be agreeing with him. It certainly was helping to trim down that bit of tum that had suddenly appeared when he hit his fourth decade... After tossing on a loose tank top, Greg wandered into the kitchen with his tea, leaving a meagre assortment of possible clothing choices for John on the bed. Greg wasn't at all surprised when John came into the kitchen about ten minutes later dressed in his own jeans, his lack of a jumper the only concession to their upcoming adventure.

He shrugged as Greg swooped down on him, passing over a plate laden with toast and eggs as he planted a kiss on his forehead. "It was very thoughtful of you to try, sweetheart, but I think I'll just pick something up when we get there. Nothing in your stack that I'd be able to wear without cinching a belt tight, and that's no fun when you're trying to relax."

"Oh, rub it in why don't you, you fit little fucker."

"None of that nonsense, Gregory. You aren't unfit at all. I just feel like a kid trying on his Daddy's clothes when I slip something of yours on, that's all. Sometimes, it's not a unwelcome sensation, but that's not the mood I'm in today."

Greg blinked rapidly and cleared his throat uneasily as John smirked at him. "Right. Well then. I'll just - _um_."

John contentedly munched on his toast as he watched Greg bustling around, gathering snacks and a few bottles of water, tossing them on top of a couple of folded towels tucked into a rucksack. He placidly rinsed his plate clean as Greg did one more frantic whirl around his tiny flat, ensuring that nothing of importance was left behind. John patted the left pocket of his jeans absently, making sure that he had his own little surprise tucked away securely and then waited by the door for Greg to finish his sweep. Even though it had originally been his idea, he was gratified and more than a little pleased to see that Greg had taken it on with such enthusiasm. He found himself returning a blinding grin before being snogged nearly senseless up against his silver-haired lover's front door.

With a quiet laugh of approval, John reached out to twine their fingers together before tugging Greg out the door and down the stairs.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg & John in Brighton...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff and more fluff...
> 
> Hope you all enjoy, fairly certain that there will be at least one more chapter posted before week's end, maybe even two!
> 
> As always, I adore you all and would dearly like to know what you think...
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies!

Parking was nearly impossible, of course, but Greg managed to find a spot in one of the carparks that was only a couple of minutes walk to the beach proper. John ducked into one of the first little shops they came across, eager to shuck off his jeans and change into suitable beach attire. It didn't take him long to find something that was more than a bit too perfect, and he paid for his merchandise before going into the back changing room and switching out his outfit. He even purchased a pair of cheap thong sandals, carefully tucking away the trainers that Greg had given him a few weeks back. John was also sure to retrieve the little surprise that he had hidden away before they had left the flat earlier, slipping the chain over his neck and tucking the tags under his new t-shirt.

He came back out with his clothes in a plastic sack to find Greg missing, although not too difficult to find. He had simply ducked around the corner, and was leaning up against the building with his eyes closed and his face tilted up to the sun, smiling faintly. The terrible hedonist had already shed his shirt and had apparently tucked it into the rucksack that was sitting at his feet. John was about to call out to him when he saw a young man heading from the other direction stop suddenly, his gaze openly appreciative as he looked the silver-haired man up and down. Greg was of course completely oblivious to the predator sizing up his prey. John snickered slightly and settled in to watch from his hidden spot around the corner.

"Well,hel _-lo_  Daddy..."

Greg's head snapped to the side as he stiffened slightly. "Um, what was that?" 

The impertinent man tittered as he moved closer, saucily cocking his hip before placing his hand on it as he looked Greg up and down again. "Nice deep rough voice too. Oh, you are a treat, aren't you?"

Greg shaded his eyes from the bright light above as he blinked at the stranger in bemusement. "I beg your pardon?" John giggled quietly to himself at his lover's carefully polite tone. 

"Hm. Do you have a little boy waiting for you at home, Daddy? I've been awfully naughty, I sure could use a good spanking." John frowned slightly as Greg's lips turned up in a perplexed but still painfully frosty smile. "I'd make it worth your while, Daddy dear." Greg shrank away as the nuisance started to reach out, obviously intent on running his fingers over his exposed collarbone. 

John cleared his throat pointedly as he fully rounded the corner. "Yeah, no. That's not happening. Back off, tart."

The young man's mouth twisted unpleasantly as he turned away, eyeing John with irritation. " _Hmph_. Guess you aren't so good at discipline anyway, if your boy talks to strangers like that."

John snorted and tossed his bag down next to Greg's as the interloper strode away, putting far too much sway into his narrow hips as he went on the prowl for someone unattached, or unattended at the very least. "Little shit." 

Greg turned to him incredulously. "The fuck was that all about?"

John smirked as Greg's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open upon seeing him properly. "Oh, Gregory. You have to know that your gorgeous silver hair appeals to a certain percentage of the gay population just a bit more than others. You're a  _classic_  Daddy figure, sweetheart. Lounging around with all that delicious chest hair showing is just making it more obvious, really. Can't exactly blame the lad, even if he did come on far too strongly to be a proper little boy... Should have been a bit more demure, just a tiny bit shy." John cast his eyes down as he came a bit closer, clasping his hands behind his back as he twisted his body side-to-side gently. "I didn't mean to be naughty, Daddy... Are - are you going to punish me?" John fluttered his light brown eyelashes and affected a quiet, breathy tone that was just a bit higher than his normal voice. He fought back on the grin that was threatening to erupt as Greg's face drained of colour and his eyes went a shade darker than usual. "Was I a bad little boy, Daddy?"

"John, stop that this instant. I just can't even - not with you looking like _that_ , for fuck's sake." Greg put one hand to his head as he slumped back against the wall. "You're making my brain hurt."

"Poor Daddy..." John dropped his little boy persona, straightening his shoulders and planting his feet firmly as Greg shot him a pained look. He could read the torment in his lover's face, and knew that it was all because his outward appearance was inspiring a definite reaction in the beleaguered man whereas his behaviour was tugging him very much in the opposite direction. After all, he couldn't very well be a soldier  _and_  a little boy, now could he? He allowed Greg a moment to collect himself as he fell into his all-too-accustomed version of parade rest, choosing once again to clasp his hands behind his back as he stood waiting patiently.

Greg looked him up and down, sweeping his eyes from side-to-side, caressing his body with nothing but his gaze. He abruptly crouched, supporting himself against the wall as he tilted his head back and took in deep cleansing breaths. "What the fuck, John... Was it your intention to embarrass the hell out of me by making me walk around with a goddamn stiffy the whole afternoon?"

"What, this?" John spread his arms as he looked down at himself critically. The swimtrunks were nicely fitted to his smaller frame, the material fashionably tattered, the desert camo pattern even slightly faded, just like his well-worn fatigues at home. He had chosen a tan t-shirt to wear with them, a size or two smaller than his usual so that the soft cotton fabric caressed and outlined his torso rather than concealing it. He smirked again as Greg let out a sharp breath and took in another with a small moan. "Why, do you like it?"

"John. For God's sake, don't you try to play innocent with me. You know exactly what you're doing to me, you horrible, beautiful man." Greg's voice held a stern rebuke, but it broke slightly as his eyes came to rest on his lover's chest, just below his throat. "Oh sweet baby Jesus you're wearing your ID tags too oh my God." His head dropped in defeat.

The smaller man finally broke out into breathless giggles. "Think of it as an exercise in self-control, sweetheart. I really didn't intend for this, but it was on the rack and it was my size and I just couldn't resist! I mean, how could I, since I had the tags all ready and waiting in my pocket..." 

Greg shook his head disbelievingly as he abruptly tucked John's clothing into his bag, and then hauled himself to his feet and slung the rucksack over one shoulder. He reached out and spun John on his heels, tucking himself up close to his back as he put his hands on his hips. The smaller man bit down on a low moan as Greg's considerable erection pressed into the small of his back. Greg growled quietly in his ear. "Well then, I guess we're just going to have to walk around likethis all day. Otherwise I'll end up scandalising entire families and frightening the wee ones out of their wits with this absolutely  _raging_  hard-on, won't I?"

John tilted his head back slightly, resting his tawny head against Greg's shoulder. "You do have a point. You would certainly attract the wrong kind of attention from more individuals like that impertinent tart if they happened to take notice of what you're packing in those shorts of yours. So what do you suggest we do, my randy gent?"

"You know very well what I would suggest.  _I_  would suggest that my extremely naughty little boy get on his knees and take care of his Daddy the way he knows he likes." Greg growled again as John stiffened against him. "However. That is hardly feasible out here in the open, is it? I'd have to arrest  _myself_  for public indecency, for God's sake."

John giggled quietly, fighting back his own reaction to Greg's words. This was definitely not the time nor the place, but he couldn't help feeling a little zing in his bollocks at the thought of being taken across his lover's knee for a bit of corporal punishment. Then a bit of inspiration struck him. "Okay, let's try this - we're going to imagine others in compromising situations, all right? Picture Mrs. Hudson and...Mycroft." His eyebrows lifted as he felt a tiny twitch in the small of his back. "Seriously? Mycroft?"

Greg scoffed. "Can't tell me you haven't thought about him that way. You told me that you're pretty sure that he's got eyes on you, and I know that hasn't stopped you from wanking in front of whatever high-tech equipment he's stashed away in your room. Admit it - you like the idea of putting on your dirty shows for him, you nasty little tease. Surely you must've been thinking of him at least once or twice. Imagining one of those fine suits of his coming off that long body bit by bit, maybe even helping him, licking at every strip of creamy skin as it was exposed..."

John let out a strangled noise. "Fine, fine!" He ran his hand over his eyes as he shook his head. "No thinking of any Holmeses, then. So... Mrs. Hudson and - oh! Mr. Chatterjee!"

Greg frowned behind him and scoffed loudly. "What, that philanderer? As if Vivian would have anything further to do with that cad."

"Not the point, Gregory! Try to focus, won't you?"

"Pfft - fine." Greg sighed heavily and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the tight little body that was still pressed up to his as he pictured the good lady with her sometime suitor. He got as far as shirts coming off before he felt his erection wilt. "Ergh."

John giggled quietly as he nodded his head. "She's a grand old dame, but that is a picture I quite definitely do not need in my head."

"Apparently, it's one that I do need in mine, if I'm going to be walking around with you looking like that all afternoon." The older man sighed again as he wrapped his arms around his lover and gave him a gentle squeeze before releasing him and holding out his hand. "C'mon, then. Ice cream!"

"At least you're easily distractible - it's a bit like a dog chasing after a ball and coming back with a twig instead."

Greg harrumphed quietly. "I have no idea what you're talking about." His face suddenly lit up with a cheery grin as he looked over the horizon and he pointed at the sky eagerly. "Lookit! Kites!"

John shook his head and swallowed his laughter, falling into step next to his lover and allowing him to swing his arm in time to their easy strides. It was a little ridiculous, and he suddenly realised that he felt a bit like a child, easy and carefree, like neither of them had a worry in the world. He felt the warmth of the sun on his back, and the warmth of his lover around his heart, and decided that he wasn't going to think about a damn thing today. Nope - he would simply allow Greg to drag him around wherever he wanted to go, and be grateful for it.

The queue at the ice cream shop (or shoppe, as the sign proclaimed) was of course ludicrously long, and John endured the petulant whines in his ear as his lover pouted quietly. "Could chase them all out of here with my badge, and get ice cream for free, y'know..."

"Gregory, you will do no such thing." John turned slightly and nodded his head toward the freezer case that they were all waiting in front of. "Go on, see what's on the menu and report back." 

"Sir, yes sir." 

John snorted as Greg bounded away and turned a slightly embarrassed grin on the couple that was laughing quietly behind him. Their eyes were twinkling, though, so he took it as the humour and levity that it was meant to be, shaking his head fondly as Greg all but plastered himself to the plexiglass and took in the wonders concealed therein. 

He came back licking his lips. "All the usuals, of course, the vanilla and chocolate and mint and whatnot. Caramel and peanut butter. There's some kind of lavender concoction too."

John frowned. "Lavender is a flower, Gregory, not a foodstuff. If I'm going to indulge myself with this nonsense, I'm going to do it properly. Something gooey and rich and completely and utterly horrible for me."

Greg slipped behind him and wrapped one arm around his waist before tucking his chin over his shoulder. "That's the spirit, sweetheart." He began to rock their bodies together slightly as the music that was playing overhead came into focus, some random channel playing generic hits from the eighties. "Ooh, this is a good one." Much to John's dismay, he began to croon softly in his ear.

_Moving forward using all my breath_   
_Making love to you was never second best_   
_I saw the world crashing all around your face_   
_Never really knowing it was always mesh and lace_

_I'll stop the world and melt with you_   
_You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time_   
_And there's nothing you and I won't do_   
_I'll stop the world and melt with you..._

John knew that he'd never been able to hear this song again without picturing Greg much as the song described, holding himself over him, shoving all of the air out of John's lungs as he moved deep within him. He swiftly set up a running mantra of 'Hudson and Chatterjee, Hudson and Chatterjee' in his head to combat the gentle twitching at the base of his cock. Greg's voice, so soft and yet rough, continued on blithely, completely unaware of the effect that he was having on his lover. But then, maybe not, since there was a hint of a wicked grin underlying his tone, a subtle inflection that showed that he clearly approved of John's reaction, even in the middle of a random shop full of strangers. Or maybe it was because of it...

The torment came to a blissful stop as they finally reached the head of the queue. John perused his options and ended up getting a scoop of something hideously chocolate with brownie bits and peanut butter  _and_  caramel, for God's sake. His second scoop was just plain vanilla in hopes of counteracting some of the richness. Greg tried a bit of just about everything, including the honey lavender, but ultimately settled on a waffle cone with coffee and mint chocolate chip, of all things. 

He shrugged at John's disbelieving stare. "At heart, I'm really a very simple man, John."

John burst into laughter as they left the shop, turning toward the pier. "Sweetheart, that is something that I know very well."

Greg turned that lovely, easy grin of his on him, making John's laughter die in his chest. "Yeah, you do, don't you?" He gently tucked his free arm around his lover's waist, insinuating his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt so he could stroke his side idly. 

John suddenly sighed in absolute bliss as they walked on in silence, simply taking in the sights and sounds as they nibbled on their frozen treats. It was a lovely day, and people were out in abundance, but not once did he feel self-conscious about having a man at his side, not the least of which was because he loved this man with everything that he had in him, but because he knew that nobody here was judging them. He always felt safe with Greg near him, but this was something different, something more subtle and carefree.

They stood at the end of the pier for a long time, just staring out into the horizon with their arms settled comfortably around each other. Greg pressed a soft kiss to John's temple and gave him a little squeeze. "I think I'm ready for a little sit down, how about you?"

John blinked up at him with a smile. "Whatever you want, Gregory. Lead on."


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the day at the beach...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the 'Brighton Interlude', or whatever... :)
> 
> As always, would love to know what my regular readers think of the turn that it took, which surprised me just as much as it probably surprised you all...
> 
> Next chapter will deal with some not-so-happy stuff, but there will be smut, sooo... Yay?
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies!

They both sat reclined in their rented chairs for a good hour or so, simply enjoying each other's company in silence. There was the occasional murmur of interest as something pretty passed by, or a vague discussion about what they might do for dinner, but for the most part, they were quiet, faces turned up to the sun and legs splayed wide to catch it on their skin. Greg shifted suddenly as a harsh shriek pierced the air, but subsided when it instantly became apparent that it was simply a child enjoying themselves in the water. John cracked one eye open and watched with a faint smile as the silver head turned toward the ocean and then back to him a few times.

"Go on, then."

Greg reached out to grab his hand. "Won't be as much fun without you."

"Gregory, we can hardly both go running off into the ocean and leave all of our shit lying about for God only knows who to come by and snatch it."

The older man made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and looked around. His eyes lit up and he stood abruptly, stretching his arms above his head before bending down for the rucksack. "C'mon, grab your chair. I think there are some new friends that we'd like to meet."

John quirked an eyebrow, but did as Greg requested, following him down the beach with his deck chair tucked under one arm. Greg stopped next to a couple of older gents, obviously long-time residents, as both of their bodies were well-tanned by long exposure to the sun, their skin very nearly the texture of leather. They were in their late 60s or early 70s, clearly well-established in their relationship, as they were sitting close, their arms brushing against each other as they turned their heads in unison to look up at the intruders.

Greg smiled that infuriatingly blinding smile and stuck out his hand to the man sitting nearest. "Hi. I'm Greg, this is John."

The somewhat roundish gentleman blinked at him for a long moment before raising his own and shaking Greg's hand firmly. He seemed a bit mesmerised by the smile though, as his mouth simply hung open slightly. His partner blew out an amused breath and spoke up for him. "I'm Oliver, that's Alfred. Never mind him, he always gets a bit flustered when a pretty young thing like you happens by."

His partner sputtered slightly. "Alfie, not Alfred. For goodness' sake, Oliver, you know which name I prefer. I've only been correcting you for three decades and then some."

The taller and clearly more elegant of the two, Oliver rolled his eyes at his partner and shook his head. "It sounds so undignified." Alfie blew a loud raspberry as John and Greg looked between them with growing amusement. "Oh, yes? That was lovely, truly magnificent - you do your forebears proud. Darling, do behave yourself." Oliver inclined his well-groomed, steel-grey head toward the standing couple. "We have guests."

Alfie ran his fingers through his fluffy white hair, making it stand up and giving him the impression of a dandelion with a halo. "Yes, I'm well aware, my dearest love." He rubbed his hands together and turned his attention back to Greg, who grinned down at him in utter delight. "Oh my goodness, you are a dish, aren't you?"

John broke out into laughter at the smug look on his lover's face. "I like to think so, yes." He held out his hand to Alfie and then Oliver, who took it between both of his.

"You look terribly familiar, lad." The older gentleman looked up at him for a moment, tilting his head from side to side. "Would  you happen to have family in the area, maybe spent a bit of time here?"

John frowned slightly. "No, no family round these parts. Haven't been for a few years, either."

"How odd." Oliver patted his hand gently before releasing him. "Ah, well... I'm sure it will come to me."

Alfie eyed their belongings with a little squint. "Pressing us into service? Want us to watch your things while you go play in the water?"

Greg grinned again. "Only if you don't mind, sir, and not for very long. We're hardly outfitted appropriately for that bit of ocean!" He tilted his head becomingly. "I'd be happy to buy both of you a treat or two as payment for your grueling work."

"Oh, the charm on you..." Alfie winked at John not-so-surreptitiously. "You didn't stand a chance, did you?"

John shook his head. "No." He sighed as though terribly put-upon. "No, I really didn't."

"Fine, get on with the two of you, then. Go have your little romp away from the old folks." 

Greg put his bag down between them, giving them each a little pat on the knee. Alfie blushed, and Oliver tittered at him with a tiny grin. He turned to find John fidgeting slightly, and he kissed him on the temple before running a finger along the collar of his shirt. "John... It's all right, love. No-one is going to pay it any mind, I promise you."

John sighed again, but straightened his shoulders before pulling his t-shirt up and off. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his scar, not really, but there were times that it had attracted quite a bit of attention, and John did not relish that kind of scrutiny in the least. So he generally avoided situations in which his maimed shoulder would be exposed. But Greg was quite right - it would be silly to wear a shirt into the water. He caught Oliver giving him a shrewd look, but since there was no enquiry or pity in his gaze, he simply shrugged it off.

Oliver reached out his hand. "I'll hold onto your tags, lad. Wouldn't want them to get lost, would we?" 

John tilted his head as he pulled them off, watching with interest as the older gentleman's bearing went a bit rigid. Ah, so a retired military man himself, then. He placed them gently in his hand and closed his own over both, squeezing again. "Thank you, sir." He reached out to take Greg's hand, and giggled slightly as he was instantly pulled toward the inviting tideline. 

John had never been a strong swimmer, so after a quick submersion to cool off his head, he only went out as far as he was comfortable, the cool water lapping at his midriff as Greg romped and cavorted all around him. There was that damned exuberance again - where the bloody hell did it come from? He shook his head in bemusement as his lover grinned at him easily, swarming up out of the water to clasp him in a somewhat chilly embrace. He once again felt the words sticking in his throat as those deep brown eyes looked into his, but Greg must have seen something there, because he swiftly took his lips in a fierce kiss that warmed John all the way down to his toes. That was it, then, wasn't it? He knew, of course he knew, and John didn't have to say anything. He felt something in his spine relax slightly as he let the worry go, simply letting it float off into the atmosphere. 

He started to tug Greg back toward shore, fighting the urge to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist. If he did that, God only knew how long they'd be out here, and he was beginning to shiver. Greg smiled and gave him a swift pinch on the bum under the cover of the water before taking his hand and leading him back to their new friends. 

Oliver sat looking up at them as they toweled off, his eyes grazing over John in particular. When it seemed that the smaller man had managed to shake most of the water out of his ears, he held out his tags to him. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but your middle name - the 'H' - would that stand for 'Hamish', by any chance?" 

John froze briefly and nodded slightly as he slipped the chain back over his head. "It would, yes."

"I believe I knew your grandfather, lad." 

John wobbled dangerously, and Greg swiftly reached out to him. "You - you what?" His mouth hung slack as he blinked down in disbelief.

Alfie got to his feet and quickly set up John's chair in front of Oliver's as Greg held him steady. Without a word, he manoeuvered him into sitting and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We were both part of the UN forces that were involved in the Korean conflict back in the 50s." John leant forward suddenly and clasped both of Oliver's hands in his. "Dreadful business, of course. But then, it always was, wasn't it? Nobody really likes seeing those uniforms come marching in, even if we are there to help. Am I right, lad?" 

"Yes, sir." He blinked at him as his thumbs worked gentle circles on the paper-thin skin. "You must have been quite young at the time." 

Oliver giggled like a schoolboy. "Oh, listen to you. But yes, I was just out of basic training, really. Your grandfather was a ranking officer, of course. A bit older than you are now, I think, but not much." He tilted his head as he looked John up and down again. "You look quite a bit like him, that's why I recognised you. When I saw the Watson on your tags there, I remembered. He was a good man - had a good heart, and a hard head. Rather like you, I imagine." John smiled suddenly, and Oliver tilted his head with a small grin. "Oh yes, definitely - you have his smile, lad." He let his eyes travel over John's left shoulder. "No doubt he'd be very proud of the man that you've grown into."

John blinked back tears as he squeezed Oliver's hands gently. "Tell me about him, please. Whatever you can remember." Oliver nodded and winked at Greg as the silver-haired man bent down to press a kiss to the top of John's head before retreating to give them both a bit of privacy. He set up his chair on the other side of Alfie, nice and close so they could converse if either of them required it. 

For a long moment, neither of them did speak, as Greg soaked in a bit of sun and allowed it to dry his hair and shorts. When Alfie cleared his throat slightly, he turned to him in anticipation and caught him looking at his partner with undisguised affection.

"My only regret is not holding onto him the first night we met. It was before all this, you know." He gestured vaguely, indicating the many same-sex couples sitting together all around them. "Before we could be open without fear of being beaten or worse. There were secret clubs back then, passwords and all that rot." Alfie smiled gently. "It was like one of those hideous romance films - we spotted one another from across the room and just sort of migrated together, and we danced all night long. I wanted to hold him in my arms forever, but of course there was a raid, and we had no choice but to scatter. I didn't get his name or number or anything. But I remembered. For fifteen years I held him in my mind, and waited. And then there was another club... Now this was the early 80s, you understand, and it was so much louder and flashier and people were just so fed up with being kept in the shadows." He rolled his eyes with a little twist of his wrist. "Lad, you would not believe some of the things that I saw in those days." He blushed brightly. "Not that I could ever bring myself to participate. Too British, you understand." Greg chuckled quietly as he nodded. "But it happened just like that night a decade and a half before. Even with all of the noise and flash and - well - distractions, we saw each other from across that room and fought our way through the crowd to be together, and we haven't let go once since then." He nodded toward John, who had reached out to lay one hand on Oliver's knee as his eyes were fixed on the older man's face, totally engrossed in his stories. "You hold onto that one, lad. Hold him tight, and he'll do the same."

"I fully intend to, sir."

"You two are special, I can tell. You fit, just like we do. One day you'll be the ones enjoying a bit of sun on a nice day and entertaining two young lovelies with absurd stories of the past." His green eyes sparkled merrily. "One day perhaps you'll be the one stepping out to enjoy a little well-earned treat with one of those youngsters."

Greg grinned as he stretched and reached for the rucksack before standing. "Right you are." John looked up at him in surprise as he stepped close, bending down to press a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm just going to fetch payment for these chaps' service earlier. You want anything?"

"No thanks, love." John swiftly reached out to poke at Greg's middle playfully. "You don't exactly need another one either!" 

The silver-haired man danced out of his reach as he stuck out his tongue, and then turned an enquiring look on the older gentleman. He waved him away with a little smile, tilting his head toward his partner. "He knows what I want."

Greg smiled as Alfie bent down in a gallant little bow. "Don't I always, my darling?"

"Pah. Away with you." Oliver turned back to John with a little smirk on his face and instantly engaged him in conversation again, not paying any mind as his partner wandered off arm-in-arm with Greg. The two men took their time as they wandered toward the ice cream shop, pausing here and there as the older man pointed out this interesting spot or told that odd little tale. They also paused from time to time to appreciate certain individuals as they cruised past, both of their heads turning to get a good look at certain assets in particular. They laughed quietly at each other as they realised that they perhaps had more in common than they first thought as yet another young man's backside caught both of their attention.

The walk back was a little brisker, as the sun was beginning to dip low on the horizon, and the temperature had increased just enough to make it a tad uncomfortable and more than a bit not good for traveling frozen dairy products. Greg had only purchased a single scoop for himself as a small snack (the honey lavender this time), and so rescued his walking partner's extra cone when he was done, making it a little easier on him to finish his own. A small rivulet of chocolate started to wind its way down his hand, and he quickly licked it up, unconsciously bumping the tip of his nose into the cone as he did so. He stopped and blinked down his nose, cross-eyed, as Alfie swiftly swept up the bit of ice cream with his thumb, sticking it into his mouth without delay. 

He winked at Greg as he nodded toward their respective partners, now in clear view. "I won't tell if you won't, lad." With that, he took his partner's slightly oozy ice cream back and strode off toward them.

Greg was still giggling when they came up on them, now sitting silent, both of their faces turned up to the sun. He smiled fondly when he saw that they were still holding hands. John blinked down at him as Greg crouched in between his knees, and leant over to deliver a probing kiss. "Mm. Still creamy." He laughed quietly at his lover's fierce blush, and squeezed Oliver's hand gently before letting him go. "It's nearly five, you know. We should be heading back to London soon if we want any time to ourselves before our,  _ahem_ , meeting with Edward..."

The two older gentlemen cast knowing eyes at each other over Oliver's ice cream, but Greg steadfastly ignored them as he stood, shucking his rucksack from his shoulder and dropping it at John's feet. "Right. Well then..." With a cheeky grin, he turned and strode off toward the ocean once more. 

John watched him go with a little shake of his head, rolling his eyes as his companions laughed easily beside him. "Sometimes it's like trying to corral a puppy. Something large but unbearably adorable - a Newfoundland, maybe."

Alfie tilted his head in thought. "Do Newfoundlands come in grey?"

John frowned. "Good point. Maybe English Sheepdog, then?"

The three men were still discussing the pros and cons of dog ownership and contemplating what might constitute a 'Lestrade' breed fifteen minutes later, when Greg came up from his final romp in the ocean, dripping wet. He paid absolutely no mind to their conversation or their protestations as he violently shook his head, spraying them all with a fine mist of saltwater. He reached for his towel as they all exploded into laughter. 

Greg paused with the towel held to his torso as he looked between them all with vague irritation. "Oh, what now?" 

He started to run the terrycloth over his hair as Alfie smiled at him fondly. "Inside joke, lad. Nothing to worry your pretty little head over."

"Which means this amusing little joke is about me." He sniffed melodramatically. "John, how dare you speak about me in a jesting manner! I thought you cared about me!"

John sputtered. "I - I do! You - it was just a..." He blushed bright red as Greg took it in his turn to laugh at him along with the older gentlemen. "Oh, fine. Just for that, I'm not gonna tell you what the joke was about."

Greg grinned as he draped the towel over his shoulders and bent down for a kiss. He rubbed their cheeks together and whispered, "I think you were comparing me to a dog again, you silly thing. Woof." He growled low in John's ear. "Who knows - maybe one day I'll even let you leash me."

_"Oh."_  John's blush started to travel down his chest as Greg pulled away, with both Alfie and Oliver watching with more than a touch of wicked glee. He swiftly grabbed his t-shirt and threw it on, standing abruptly. "Right. We really must be on our way."

Alfie held out his hand to John, who shook it solemnly. Oliver just sat up slightly, and John instantly bent down to embrace him heartily. As they were saying their goodbyes, the portly gentleman turned to Greg. "I imagine that you have one of those ghastly little machines on your person?" Greg snorted and dug through his rucksack, coming up with his phone with a little flourish. He typed in the number that Alfie gave him, reading it back twice to make sure that it had been input to the older man's satisfaction. "You need anything, just to talk or what-have-you, you call. Let us know the next time you're driving down, and we would be more than happy to put you up for the night. Or the weekend." John's eyes were a little misty as he looked between the two men, and they winked at each other. "You can bring your Edward along too, if you like."

John frowned as Greg shook his head firmly. "It's - ah, well, it's not like that. But I do appreciate the offer, and I think John and I will be taking you up on it."

He reached out to twine their fingers together as the smaller man nodded definitively. "Yeah, we'd like that a lot. Thank you."

Greg held out his free arm and Alfie tucked himself into it eagerly. "You've really made this a special day, my fine gent." He turned to Oliver as his partner released him and bent down to press a kiss to his cheek. "You both have." Oliver tittered at him and playfully pushed at his chest as John tugged on his hand. 

With a lingering backward glance and a final wave goodbye, John and Greg set off for the carpark. John squeezed Greg's hand as they walked. "Thank you for this, sweetheart."

"It was your idea, John. I was just going with the flow. Turned out better than either of us expected, eh?"

"Astonishing, really. Beyond anything I could have imagined." He squeezed Greg's hand again. "We will have to come back, you know. I'll have to dig out my box of photos and bring them along. I managed to rescue them from my mother the last time I saw her, when she..." John's voice faltered suddenly and he shook himself. "You don't want to hear about that, though."

Greg stopped abruptly and gave him a fierce hug. "I want to hear everything about you, love. But only when you're comfortable telling me. Honestly - you can talk to me, John. Even if this," John blinked against Greg's chest as he heard a slight hitch in his voice. "Even if this doesn't work out between us and I sincerely hope that it does, I mean, I really really hope so, but even if it doesn't, you can trust me. You know that, right?" 

John tucked his face into his neck and squeezed his waist hard. He knew, yes, but long years of mistrust and holding his emotions close to his chest had left their mark. He wanted to tell Greg everything, he really did, but it would take a while for it to come out nonetheless. Luckily for him, Greg was a remarkably patient man. He nodded without speaking, not sure that his voice wouldn't simply give everything away.

Greg pressed another soft kiss to the top of his head and gently extricated himself from John's fierce grip, once again taking his hand and leading him toward the car. He jiggled his arse slightly as they walked, causing his lover to snort at him inelegantly. "You're going to chafe, you daft fool. Driving home with a wet bum, what were you thinking?"

Greg smirked as they arrived at his car and started to rummage through his pack. He faltered slightly, and opened the door before simply dumping the contents out on the seat and continuing to paw through them. "Hrm. I  _was_  thinking that I had packed another pair of shorts, but perhaps I only thought that I thought that."

John snorted. "So what now?"

Greg bit his lip and after a moment, simply wrapped the towel tight around his waist. He glanced around surreptitiously and slipped his hands underneath, wriggling his backside enticingly under John's astonished gaze. "Ta-da!" His wet shorts hit the ground with a splat, and he carefully transferred John's clothes into his pack and used the plastic sack from the shop to wrap them up. He put his shirt back on and tossed the rucksack in the back seat. "Ready, then?"

John looked him up and down, his eyes instantly drawn to the hefty sliver of solid thigh that had absolutely no hope of being covered by the towel. He sighed quietly and ducked around the car to the passenger seat. He had a feeling that it was going to be a rather long drive back to London...


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A minor diversion on the way back from Brighton...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be something short and sweet and utterly filthy, but 3000 words plus later, I think I've at least managed the sweet and filthy.
> 
> Let me know if I've accomplished my goal - please comment!
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies...

John actually managed to make it nearly a whole hour before becoming thoroughly distracted by the significant chunk of sturdy thigh peeking out from under Greg's towel. He cast a sideways glance at skin glowing with a healthy vitality, the muscle flexing slightly as his silver-haired lover tapped his foot in time to the music pouring out of the speakers. He squirmed uneasily in his seat as Greg sang along, either blissfully unaware of John's intense regard, or so focused on the road that it went unnoticed. His voice drifted away as John placed a hand on his bare knee, gracing him with a quick smile as he covered it with his own.

"Hey, you."

John snorted out a quiet laugh. "Hello yourself." 

"Good day, hm?" He abruptly put both hands back on the wheel as someone sped past him, shaking his head disbelievingly as the arse came up against the solid block of traffic that Greg had been deliberately hanging back from. 

John took his opportunity without hesitation, lifting his hand and tracing Greg's kneecap lightly. "Better than I could have dreamt." He let his fingers travel upward. "Almost feels like I imagined it all." 

Greg's deep brown eyes twinkled at him for a moment before returning back to the road. "Anything I can do to make it more real for you?"

John chuckled low as his fingers travelled a bit higher and started to dip under the dubious cover of the towel. He laughed again as Greg's Adam's apple bobbed in a visible swallow. "Might not be such a good thing to ask at this particular moment..."

Greg swallowed again, but his voice still came out with a bit of a tremor in it. "Oh, no? And why's that?" 

John shifted in his seat as his cock twitched at the vaguely needy tone in his lover's voice. Poor man was a bit overwrought - after all, John had been teasing him almost unbearably by walking around in this pseudo-uniform all day, and he couldn't deny the rush of knowing that something that intrinsic to his being was so beguiling to his lover. And then there had been that blessedly brief encounter with the apparent gold-digger, which had inspired the enticing thought of Greg taking him across his knees and punishing him like a naughty child - oh. Oh, yes.

That rather unexpected vision had been dancing on the edges of his consciousness all bloody afternoon, inducing mental chants of _'Hudson and Chatterjee, Hudson and Chatterjee'_ at completely random moments. John had found himself pondering ways to possibly introduce a bit more role-play into their normal activities, especially after having so much fun with the 'Constable and Rent-Boy' scene from a few weeks back. And Greg really was an ideal Daddy figure, caring and playful, but oh-so-stern when necessary. His discipline would be firm but fair, and John knew that he would take care of him so beautifully afterwards. Although he had looked a bit uncomfortable at the mere idea, so maybe not _quite_ yet. John sighed breathily and realised that his mind was wandering too far afield when his lover cast him an amused glance.

He shook his head to get it back in the game, striving for a nice and easy tease. "I would think that would be quite obvious, Gregory." John growled quietly as he allowed his hand to move upward slightly, brushing against his lover's hard length with the lightest of touches. "The sort of thing that I would need to - ahem - solidify this day is rather inadvisable while one of the participants is operating a motor vehicle. Illegal, even." 

Greg gulped audibly even as his thighs spread a bit wider, his hands clutching at the steering wheel a little tighter. "Spell it out for me, John. I want this day to be stuck in your head for a very long time. Tell me what you need to make that happen." He let his eyes skitter sideways and back quickly. "In detail. Tell me in excruciating detail."

John giggled unabashedly as he leant in closer. "Your cock. My mouth. I need to taste you, Gregory. Need to curl my tongue around the head of that lovely prick and feel the pre-come trickling out, coating my taste buds. Need to feel the weight of you against my palate, against my teeth, need to breathe you in and suck and suck and suck until you explode in my mouth, down my throat. I need to consume you. Once I feel you in my mouth and in my throat and in my belly - once I have you inside me, weighing me down, then I will know with absolute certainty that this day was real."

_"Nghk."_

"Breathe, sweetheart." John giggled again as Greg nodded abruptly, sucking in a breath through his nose and then out his mouth as he began scanning the road behind and to the side. John felt his lips curling into a wicked smirk as his lover changed lanes. "Gregory, whatever _are_ you doing?" 

His innocent voice did not fool Greg for an instant, as he cast a distinctly dirty look in his direction before switching lanes again. "You know very well that I'm pulling over. I'm not going to deny you anything that you need from me, you filthy little fuck." 

John started giggling so hard that his vision actually went a little white, and Greg eyed him a bit doubtfully as he pulled off the M25 onto one of the few spots that sported a grass verge. John wheezed a bit and winked at his lover with a hint of tears in his eyes as he regained his breath. "Put your seat back."

Greg's mouth twisted as he turned off the ignition and he stared at John somewhat blankly. "What?"

"Recline your seat. I need some room if my performance is going to be more than adequate, and to be quite honest, Gregory, I'd rather like to blow your mind as well as your cock. If you don't put your seat back, I will be forced to pull you out of the car and suck you off in full view of the entire motorway." 

John grinned disarmingly as Greg let another strangled noise pass his lips. "Not sure I'm going to last long enough to really make it a mind-blowing experience, Captain." 

"Well, that's all right. It's not like we can hang about for very long anyway. From what I recall, this is just as illegal as sex acts in a _moving_ vehicle, but at least this way, we aren't risking the potential of a deadly collision." He winked cheekily. "But then, you might know better than me."

Greg huffed out a laugh as he released his safety belt and fumbled for the lever on his seat. "Haven't done traffic in the better part of two decades, John. Although I don't think the rules have changed all that much, and you do have a point. If we linger, we're sure to get a visit from the lads in blue and wouldn't that just be a wonderful thing for my career?"

John ran his hand up the tantalising sliver of thigh as Greg reclined with a little sigh. "If you're truly worried, tell me now, and I will hold off until we get back to yours."

The silver-haired man barked out a harsh laugh. "As if _I_ could! Now stop teasing me, you dirty little bastard, and get to it!" 

John undid his own safety belt with a raised eyebrow and twisted lips. "Anybody else would've been severely chastised for far less, you know. But you..." He pulled the towel loose from around Greg's waist and spread it open, licking his lips at what was revealed. "Oh, Gregory. You're just too magnificent to smack."

"Flatterer. You do that just to watch me blush, don't ya?" Greg shivered as John rucked his shirt up, running the flat of his hand all the way from sternum to bollocks, cupping them in his palm as he started to lean over.

"The blush is definitely part of it, yes. The way your prick jumps at the sound of my voice, the hitch of your breath as I get closer. I compliment you because you respond so beautifully - because you deserve it, sweetheart." With a low moan, John buried his nose right into the thick thatch of curls surrounding his lover's gorgeous cock, breathing him in greedily.

"John..." Greg's voice was choked off as he hastily stuffed the heel of one hand in his mouth and placed the other on the back of John's head. John nodded briefly, a little disappointed. He knew that they had a limited amount of time at their disposal, and almost regretted starting his little game when they didn't really have the opportunity to enjoy it to the fullest. Next time, he decided. When they did their drive in the country, he'd make sure that they pulled off somewhere truly secluded, and he _would_ drag Greg from the car then. They could roll together in thick grass, rut against each other like animals, or - oh - John could spread himself out on a blanket and let Greg take him out in the open, a wild and carnal feast before sitting down to a long and lazy picnic lunch. 

With these delightful images in his head, John hummed vaguely and ran his tongue over the exposed head of Greg's cock, licking up the single drop of pre-come with an exaggerated slurp. Greg moaned and giggled all at once, and John looked up from his repast with a naughty twinkle in his eye. The angle was awkward, of course, but he cradled his lover's bollocks with his left hand and grasped his shaft with the right, stroking gently as he continued to lick at the slit delicately. He pressed messy, open-mouthed kisses to the head and the shaft, setting his teeth into the sensitive ridge in between and running them from side to side. John looked up as there was another muffled noise from his lover, eyeing his makeshift gag disapprovingly.

He pulled off with a noisy pop and frowned slightly, his hand still stroking him steadily. "Stop that, Gregory. I want to hear all of the wonderful noises you make. I guarantee you that nobody outside this vehicle will hear a damn thing." Greg moaned again as John's tongue darted out over his heated flesh, lapping at the pre-come oozing out, making contented noises low in his throat. Greg unclenched his teeth from his hand and reached down, idly fingering the collar of his t-shirt. John grinned around his cock. "Oh, go on then."

"Captain..." John's only response was a muffled moan, as his mouth was suddenly full of his lover's hard flesh. Greg scrabbled at the chain that held John's ID tags, pulling them free from the shelter of his clothing. He rubbed them together briefly, his skin breaking out into gooseflesh at the sound of metal scraping against metal. "My Captain."

John made needy little noises low down in his chest as Greg began to thrust gently, his eyes rolling back at the sheer pleasure of feeling his lover fill his mouth and his throat so completely. Yes, his. This beautiful man was all his, and he was nearly drunk with the knowledge of it, with the opportunities he had to prove it. Earlier in the day, under the approving gaze of a pair of long-time lovers, now, in this cramped and awkward space, and then later, with Edward at the club. Yes, he was going to watch another man make Greg pant and moan, but then it would be his turn, and he would be damn sure to make him bloody _howl_.

Greg stretched underneath John's careful attentions, feeling his warm spittle beginning to run down under his bollocks and into the crack of his arse. An errant thought of _'Thank goodness there's a towel underneath me,'_ crossed his mind, but then all thoughts vanished as John really began to suck, as his fingers closed down just that much tighter, stroking just that much faster.

John suddenly found his head being pulled down by the chain that was twisted around Greg's hand, but he couldn't find it in him to mind in the least. No, he liked it when Greg took control, even if it was a mostly unconscious action on his part. He could tell that he was close, the tightness of the bollocks nestled in his palm, the erratic whines pushing their way out of his throat even as his hips bounced against the seat. He heard his name underneath it all, a quiet chant that became louder and more insistent as the muscles in Greg's thighs and in his belly began to tremble uncontrollably.

Strong, broad fingers twisted in his hair and John took in a deep breath from his nose as Greg suddenly thrust in hard and strong, a choked-off cry reverberating around the confined space as he came, filling his lover's mouth, spilling down his throat. John swallowed it all, keeping his lips wrapped around that thick shaft, using his tongue to work at the slit as it pumped that perfectly bitter salty-sweet fluid into his body. He continued to suckle at the flesh in his mouth as Greg relaxed back into the seat, moaning quietly as he shook his head from side to side, his fingers falling away from his head and untangling from the chain around his neck. 

John pulled off briefly, focusing his gaze on his lover's spit-slickened prick, softening, yes, but still thick and heavy in his hand. He tightened the ring of forefinger and thumb, running it firmly from base to tip, a thin trickle of whitish fluid oozing out. With a satisfied hum, John ducked his head one final time and lapped it up, bringing Greg back down to earth in the same manner as he had elevated him to the heavens, with tiny, kittenish licks of his tongue. He glanced up under his lashes as Greg lifted his head, his dark eyes filling him with warmth, his grin nearly blinding him. John took the edge of the towel still wrapped around Greg's waist and dabbed at him delicately, cleaning him thoroughly.

"John..."

Greg's voice, low and heated, struck him low in the belly, making his neglected cock jump hard. John winced as he straightened in his seat, both at the twinge in his back and the ache in his bollocks, fumbling for the lever on his own seat, reclining only slightly. Without a word, he shoved his shorts down to mid-thigh and took himself in hand, stroking quickly. Greg pushed his own seat back into position and leant over, running his fingers in between John's thighs, tickling at the sensitive flesh.

He moved closer and pressed a hot kiss to the skin of John's neck. "Want me to - ah..."

John shook his head, his fist fairly flying over his cock. "Hah... No. No point, sweetheart. Ah God. So close already - the noises you make, Gregory, the smells and the tastes, oh - you get me so worked up, _Jeezus_ yes..."

Greg hummed, his dark eyes fixed on the incessant motion of John's hand. "Look at you, you naughty thing." John cast him a desperate look, a bit surprised to see a vibrant blush high on his cheeks as he bit his lip uncertainly. There was a tinge of discomfort deep in Greg's eyes, but why? It wasn't like he hadn't ever seen John taking care of himself like this before... John let a rather loud moan pass through his lips as Greg took in a half-breath and then another, clearly having reached some kind of conclusion. He put his mouth to John's ear, the heat coming from his cheeks nearly scorching him. "Such a dirty little boy." Greg moved his fingers up a bit, scooping up some of the pre-ejaculate that had dripped down over John's bollocks. He hummed low in his throat as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking at them audibly.

John's breath caught in his chest, not at all sure where Greg was going with this, but quite certain that it was doing the trick. "Gre - _oh_."

"Hush, sweetheart." He dipped his fingers down for more, holding them up for John's inspection. They glistened in the dim light, a drop of clear fluid trickling down between his fingers. "Just look at how _filthy_ you are." Once again his lips were at John's ear, low and dark and dirty. "If you make a mess in Daddy's car, he might just have to take you across his knee and give his nasty little boy a thorough spanking." He abruptly shoved his soiled fingers in John's mouth and latched onto his neck, and the smaller man barely had time to take a breath before he was coming hard, his entire body seizing, his tongue working at Greg's broad digits mindlessly.

John came down to the sensation of Greg pressing soft kisses to his neck and cheek, pulling his fingers free from his mouth and running them over knee and belly. He was a little surprised to find that he had instinctively cupped his free hand over the head of his cock, capturing his release, making an unconscious effort to contain the mess. He sighed as he looked down on himself, his right hand still wrapped around his sticky cock, a nice little puddle in the palm of his left hand. Greg chuckled at him as he twisted awkwardly in his seat, reaching for the box of tissues that had been bouncing around in the back seat of the car from before he had even bought the blasted thing.

The first few simply shredded in his hands, and Greg blew out a frustrated breath as John giggled at him breathily. "That was - um - good. What you said."

Greg grinned, his cheeks still quite pink. "Obviously." His voice was droll but clearly amused as he continued to fiddle with the tissues. "Not sure how often I'll be pulling that one out of the hat, sweetheart."

John finally accepted a whole tissue and began the tedious process of wiping himself down. "That's quite all right." He winked at his lover as he turned the car back on, running the a/c at full blast to clear the windows of the condensation that had mysteriously come out of nowhere. "Use it too often, and it's not as effective any more. It just surprised me, that's all."

Greg eyed John's deflated prick as it was tucked away in his shorts with a tiny pang of loss. "Me too, a bit. But don't think that I didn't notice how your little pantomime earlier in the day affected you." He paused and cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Maybe that's something we can explore together a bit later." He cast another embarrassed blush at John's openly eager face. "Or maybe a _lot_ later." He pulled back onto the motorway and accelerated swiftly, re-inserting the car into the flow of traffic with no difficulty.

John once again placed his hand on that exposed bit of thigh, squeezing firmly. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Daddy."

Greg's eyes crinkled with mirth, and he captured John's hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before tucking their twined fingers into the curve of his hip. John tilted his head with a happy little sigh, watching the scenery fly past as Greg's thumb worked mindless circles on his hand. He let himself drift away to the sound of his lover's voice as he once more began to sing along to his music, turned down nice and low.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the club, but John is uneasy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, your eyes are not deceiving you - I have skipped a chapter. I believe there's a bit of naughtiness that must have happened on the drive back to London, but I haven't started writing that just yet. For some reason, this is what came out first...
> 
> As always, I love you all and would love to know what you think...
> 
> *mwah!*

John allowed his lover to pull him into the club, wishing that some of Greg's enthusiasm would rub off on him. He had been practically giddy with a bone-deep contentment nearly all day, simply from being able to hold Greg's hand without fear of discovery or reprisals. They had come back to the flat and had all but collapsed on Greg's bed without even bothering to rinse the dried crust of salt from their bodies, falling asleep tangled together with their lips pressed to sun-kissed skin.

John had woken first from their reviving nap, his heart nearly full to bursting as he watched Greg's chest rise and fall steadily for a good fifteen minutes. When his silver-haired lover showed signs of rousing, John had gently kissed him into full awareness before taking his second shower of the day in preparation for their outing. He had been mentally fortified for this, the usual assault on his senses, the body heat and the noise, and had even been looking forward to it. But now... He looked around uneasily as Greg continued to tow him toward the opposite side of the bar, to his favourite spot near the pass-through. Greg eyed him shrewdly as he ordered their customary pints from Geoff, but John managed to conjure up a smile that must have been somewhat convincing, since he got a smile in return as well as a kiss on the temple.

The grin that was turned on the bartender as he brought them their drinks was considerably naughtier than the one that had been bestowed upon John, but he felt his spirits lift a bit more as the Scotsman's cheeks suddenly blazed bright red. Greg winked at both of them as he downed half of his pint in one long draught, sighing with satisfaction as he licked the foam from his lips. John shook his head and then reached out to give him a pat on the bum as another quarter of the golden liquid vanished. There was a flurry of frenetic dancing as a new song was queued up, and Greg placed his empty glass on the bar, smothering a boisterous belch behind one hand. John leant back slightly, pulling a face, and came up against the solid body of the Scotsman, who seemed to be content with taking a little break from his usual duties.

Greg bent down to give him a swift kiss, which John did his best to return, but when his lover pulled back with a quizzical look on his face, he knew that he must have failed. He plastered another grin over his lips and nodded encouragingly as Greg quirked an eyebrow at him. "Go on." John firmly shooed him away, and after another lingering kiss, Greg reluctantly melted into the crowd on the dance floor. John allowed himself to sink back into Geoff's comforting presence for a long while, until brawny arms came up around his torso and one meaty hand tugged on his still-full pint. John looked down in surprise and suddenly realised that he was clutching at it with both hands, holding it close to his chest as if it could offer him some measure of protection. He surrendered it to the barman's keeping, turning his head to watch as it was securely placed on the bar's surface.

Geoff gently turned him around and just as gently pushed him into sitting on the barstool that was just behind him, looking at his face seriously as he clasped his upper arms. John blinked at him, struck by the warmth in his eyes, a lighter brown than Greg's, yes, but no less deep. It wasn't hard to read the concern there, and John felt his shoulders drop slightly. "Whit is it, laddie? Whit's got ye sae spooked?"

John shook his head, unsure how to explain the awareness of unfriendly eyes on him, how the feeling was twisting his stomach into knots even though he knew that nobody was looking - he _knew_ it, dammit. He didn't know if this irrational sensation was because of the attention that they had received the last time they were here, or if there was something else causing it, he just knew that he didn't like it, not one bit, and he didn't think he would be able to stand it much longer. His breath quickened as he felt the panic starting to rise in his throat, and Geoff's eyes widened slightly before he took one of John's hands and put it on his chest. The Scotsman copied the gesture with his own broad hand over his impromptu patient's heart, taking in a deep breath, his eyes focused on John's mouth. "Wi' me, John. Breathe wi' me, aye? Braw an' slaw."

John closed his eyes and felt the steady thrumming of Geoff's heart under his palm, taking in a slow, deep breath every time he felt the chest under his hand rise, letting it out as it deflated. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, losing count of the seconds after the first minute and a half. He felt a gentle tap on his chest as his heartbeat finally slowed a bit, and opened his eyes to find the barman smiling at him in relief. John nodded, and abruptly slid off the stool to throw his arms around the burly barman. "Thank you." Geoff ran his hands up and down his back with a quiet hum. "That helped, but I don't think I'll be able to keep calm on my own. I don't know what's wrong, I just can't be here right now."

"Git oan wi' ye - bide ootwith, an' Ah'll gie Greggy tae come fin' ye." John squeezed him tight, and went up on his toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. The startled but extremely pleased look on the barman's face nearly made him giggle, but even that brief flash of pleasure wasn't enough to push him out of his burgeoning panic mode. He turned and started to shove his way back through the crowd, ignoring the surprised looks and outraged squeals of the men that he rudely pushed past on his frantic bid for freedom.

Once outside, he strode down the pavement a way, retreating from the crowd that was lingering just outside the doors to the club. John braced himself against the wall and crouched, hanging his head between his knees and lacing his fingers over the back of his neck. He had been so happy earlier in the day - what the fuck was going on with him now? Ella had told him that he would have moments like this, but the only times that he had come close to a full-on panic attack was when he had been awakened by one of his terrible dreams. Why now? Why here? He shook his head as his legs trembled underneath him. There was no why, not really. He knew that. No, there would be no explanation of why or how, there was no rationale to it at all. It could have been anything, a sight, a sound or a smell - something that his subconscious had picked up on and latched onto for whatever reason. Or maybe it was just getting back at him just because he had been so happy earlier. Stupid brain of his showing him his place, proving to him that happiness was fleeting, that the only thing he could really count on was a complete lack of control over his own emotions. Goddammit.

"John?" In the next moment, he was staring at Greg's legs as his lover knelt on the pavement in front of him. John blinked, his mind foolishly choosing to focus on the newness of Greg's jeans, on how dark the denim was and how well they fit on those solid legs of his. He almost smiled as he remembered them getting ready just an hour or so before, sitting on the bed and fondly watching Greg as he preened in front of his wardrobe mirror. The jeans had been purchased just for this night, and now he was going to ruin them by kneeling on this dirty, dusty pavement - and it was his fault. Maybe he'd have to buy him another pair to make up for it... Did he know his size? John was sure that it had been mentioned at some point or another, maybe he'd just have to steal a look once he tore them off of his lover's body, surprise him with a little gift the next time they get the opportunity to have another weekend all on their own... Yes, more days like today, that would be lovely...

John shook his head hard as he forced himself to focus, wrenching his thoughts back into this moment, back to his current situation. Greg was close, leaning in slightly, but not too close, not reaching out to touch, not just yet. He knew, having been a witness to John's rather physical and unfortunately violent reactions after a bad dream or two. He knew better than to touch without permission, without checking to see whether John was even fully present, or if his mind had transported him elsewhere. John looked up and nodded abruptly, and in the next moment he was enveloped in a strong and comforting embrace, his nose pressed firmly into the crook of Greg's neck. He inhaled his scent greedily, finally feeling his mind settle a bit, his pulse starting to wind down into something far more regular as the tremors in his body began to still.

He took note of a pair of rather naff shoes lingering in his peripheral vision, and realised that Edward had followed Greg out of the club. Of course he had. John didn't allow himself to feel any embarrassment for his little display, after all, it was something totally out of his control. But he certainly didn't relish the idea of giving Greg's former lover any ammunition of perceived weakness to possibly use against him. But when he pulled himself away from the shelter of his lover's neck and glanced up, he was slightly surprised to see only concern in Edward's face. Fuck, he must look worse than he thought... Either that, or the enormous arsehole actually did have a heart tucked away somewhere within that well-defined chest of his. John reluctantly loosened his grip on the man holding him steady and pushed himself to his feet. Greg stood with him, once again keeping close, but being careful not to intrude on John's potential need for space. 

Edward looked him up and down and bit his lip as a little crinkle of worry appeared between his eyebrows. "We'll reschedule. Maybe next week will be better."

"No. I still want to do this, I just can't deal with - that." He waved his hand toward the entrance to the club. "Dunno why, I just can't do it here tonight."

Greg reached out and lightly traced the back of his hand with one finger. "You don't have to."

Edward blew out a soft breath. "Let Greg take you back to his, get some tea into you or something. He'll take care of you."

John scowled fiercely and turned it on the both of them in turn. "I don't _want_ to be taken care of. I want to watch you two fuck."

"John..."

"No, Gregory." He nearly hissed out of pure anger. " _This_ is what I _want_. I can't let this stupid shit rule over me the rest of my life. I need to get over it, and for tonight, this is the method I'm choosing. Sex hormones to cancel out the stupid motherfucking irrational as shit fear hormones. You got that?"

Greg blinked at him and held up his hands in surrender. "Yes, Captain my Captain. We'll get a cab back to mine, then." He sighed heavily. "I still don't think it's such a great idea, but you know best, right?"

John tugged on Greg's hand as they walked to the kerb, Edward trailing along behind. "I have an idea that might make it a bit easier for me. Familiar, comfortable surroundings."

Greg's eyebrows jumped up his forehead as he took in the look on John's face. "You want to do this at Baker Street?"

"Yeah." John nodded decisively. "Yes, I do."

Greg blinked at him again for another long moment before nodding slightly. "All right then - onward." He bundled them all into the cab that had stopped in front of them and gave the driver John's address. They were all silent on the way there, John clinging to Greg's arm like some kind of scared child. His lover slipped his hand in between his legs, squeezing his inner thigh rhythmically. John shivered, this time with delight instead of some irrational and vague fear. Oh, yes, this was just what he needed. After arriving, they all scrambled to get free of the confining space with John and Edward waiting on the pavement while Greg paid the cabbie. 

Edward looked down at him seriously. "John, if it's too much, you let me know and I will leave." He smiled crookedly with a little wink. "I mean, I might need to take a moment or two to myself in the loo first, of course..."

John let an amused huff of breath out through his nose. "Yeah. Actually, I - um - appreciate that, Edward. Thank you." 

The larger man blinked at him and nodded slightly. "I've a few friends who were in the service." Edward shrugged idly. "It changes people. I may not particularly like you, John, but I do respect what you've done, what you've been put through. I know that you aren't kicking up a fuss over nothing, and I understand why you're trying to push through it. But Greg is right - you don't have to. Remember that, okay?" With only a slight hesitation, he reached out to place a gentle hand on John's shoulder. 

John smiled and reached out his own hand to clasp Edward's elbow, giving it a light squeeze. Greg turned just in time to catch them smiling softly at each other, arms still outstretched. He felt himself take an astonished step backwards, and swiftly glanced down the street to give them whatever moment they needed to themselves. Not that he was fooled into believing that a truce was imminent, but he could perhaps hope for just a little less enmity between the two men. After an unnecessary tug on his jacket and a brief slap at his knees to ensure that he hadn't been seen, he looked up under his lashes and noted that they were once again standing quite a distance apart.

Greg cleared his throat as John turned slightly, stepping up to unlock and open the door. He gestured Edward in and waited for Greg to follow before closing the door behind them and nodding up the stairs. "I'd like a moment in the sitting room, if you don't mind."

Edward took Greg's hand and started up to the second floor without delay, pausing at the landing. John looked up in time to catch Edward wrapping one arm around Greg's waist, bending down to nuzzle at his neck. There was a swift burst of heat in his belly that he had difficulty defining - was it just the usual lust, or was there a touch of anger as well? John tapped his fingers on his leg for a moment. Perhaps this was a bad idea, after all... Greg laughed softly, the sound rolling down the stairs and wrapping itself around John's head and heart. Without allowing himself to think on it too hard, John obeyed the call and followed the couple up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation...
> 
> "What is it, laddie? What's got you so spooked?"  
> "With me, John. Breathe with me, yeah? Nice and slow."  
> "Get on with you - wait outside, and I'll get Greggy to come find you."


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Edward get down to it, and John is a bit surprised by his reaction...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I seem to be on a bit of a roll this week. Hoping to get some stuff done on my other bits, but my muse is still lingering around Greg & John for some reason. 
> 
> Anyhoo - great anticipation for the next chapter - what will John do, I wonder?
> 
> Kisses, my lovelies. Please let me know how I'm holding up against the rest of the smut that you're no doubt consuming on this wonderful site!

John squared his shoulders as he entered the sitting room, taking note of Greg and Edward getting quite cosy together on the sofa. He chose to sit in Sherlock's chair, crossing his legs as he angled his body to get a clearer view of the scene unfolding in front of him. He closed his eyes as the couple murmured quietly to themselves, letting the indistinct noises, the familiar smells of Baker Street settle into his senses. Home, yes - comfort. This was definitely what he had needed. He was already feeling some of the tension leach out of his shoulders, his pulse slowing as he breathed in evenly. John opened his eyes and watched with growing interest as Edward concentrated his efforts on Greg's neck, one hand working it's way underneath his shirt at his back, the other deftly undoing the top two buttons. 

Greg threw his head back as Edward dipped his head and ran his tongue over the hollow of his collarbone, nipping gently at his Adam's apple. John squirmed in his seat as his bollocks drew up slightly at his lover's quiet but heated moan echoing through the sitting room, and Greg shifted abruptly, going up on his knees before straddling Edward's lap. They spent a few minutes snogging, Edward's hands roaming indiscriminately over arse and back with Greg simply holding tight to his hair, keeping him in place as he plundered his mouth with his agile tongue.

Edward broke away first, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. He looked at John over Greg's shoulder and gave his bum a bit of a smack. "Last chance, Watson. If you're not gonna be okay with this tonight, you have to let me know now."

Greg glanced back at his lover, his eyes huge and black, his lips slightly puffy and spit-slicked. John sighed heavily. "I already told you - I want this. I haven't changed my mind." He nodded curtly. "Upstairs." He stood and led the way, flipping on the light in his room before pulling the necessary supplies out of the drawer in his bedside table and arranging them on top. Then John crossed the room and propped himself up against the wall near to the door to his tiny toilet, settling in to watch.

Edward glanced at the supplies with a small grin and turned his regard on John briefly. "Always so prepared."

John grimaced at him as Greg reached up to grasp at his face, bringing his attention back where it belonged - on him. "He's a military man and a doctor, besides. Of course he's prepared." He began to work the buttons on Edward's shirt loose. "So how about taking advantage of that instead of just snarking about it?" With a quiet hum of approval, Greg ran his hands underneath Edward's shirt and pulled it off without delay.

Edward chuckled low, the noise tapering off into his customary seductive growl. Once again, the two other men in the room shivered as the sound tickled at the base of both of their spines, and John cursed under his breath as Greg ducked his head and ran his tongue over one of the nipples that was already standing erect. The taller man moaned as his head went back, and he threaded his fingers into Greg's hair as he clutched him tighter to his torso. Greg hummed around the bit of flesh that was in his mouth, licking at it languidly as he started to run his fingers into the waistband of Edward's jeans.

The taller man shook his head slightly and pushed away, just enough to get Greg's shirt up and off. "Not yet, darling. I want to take care of you first, make you feel good, just like the old days." Greg blinked up at him with a puzzled expression, his head tilted slightly, and Edward smirked as he worked on getting his trousers undone. He crouched as he pulled both jeans and pants down, waiting until Greg had stepped out of them before standing again, slowly running his hands all along the backs of those divine legs as he rose. He squeezed Greg's arse with both hands, nice and firm, his eyes fluttering as the silver-haired man's low groan reverberated through the small room. With a tiny grunt, Edward ducked down slightly, his hands just under Greg's arse, and then stood upright abruptly, simply lifting his ex right off his feet. 

Greg blushed as he let out quite the unmanly squeal, throwing his arms around Edward's neck and his legs around his waist to keep himself balanced. The taller man let out another quiet grunt, spreading his legs to keep himself anchored as the man in his arms began to rock into him gently. He cast a quick sideways glance at John as Greg lowered his face to kiss him deeply, a derisive gleam in his eyes. John snorted an impatient huff of breath out of his nose. The message was perfectly clear -  _'See what I can do to him - for him? Can you literally sweep this man off his feet like I can, little Army man?'_  There was another swift burst of heat deep in his belly, that same unsure sensation - desire, anger - fear? John shifted on his feet as he looked down at the floor, suddenly feeling a little ill.

He looked up again as the springs in his bed creaked quietly, noting that Edward had gently laid Greg out sideways on the mattress. Greg let his arms fall open and to the side as Edward began to move down his body, bestowing tiny little nips and licks all along the way. John focused his attention on his lover, on the soft sighs and small giggles that passed through his lips, on the twitching of his muscles underneath his skin, the tiny ripples in his flesh as Edward's lips passed over it. He narrowed his eyes and was about to clear his throat as Edward lingered over Greg's navel, his intention to keep going lower quite clear. But then the taller man pulled away, gently working Greg's legs loose from where they had wrapped themselves around his torso.

Edward hummed as he stood upright, pushing Greg's legs up and out as his eyes swept over his body and then down. His tongue came out to wet his lips as Greg moaned, the muscles in his stomach tensing beautifully. "No plug tonight?"

Greg shook his head desperately. "No. Wanted you to open me up this time."

"Oh, my darling. Of course I would be only too happy to oblige..." Edward winked as he turned toward the bedside table, looking over the supplies with a keen eye. First he took a condom package and ripped it open, carefully laying it on Greg's belly. Then the bottle of lube, which was flipped open and a tiny little bit dribbled over Greg's cock. The silver-haired man quirked an eyebrow and looked down his own body, unsure of what Edward's plan was. With a little smirk, he rolled the condom over Greg's prick, giving it a nice squeeze and pumping it gently a few times. 

"Fuck, E." The cords in Greg's neck stood out as he fought to keep his eyes on the almost impossibly large hand that was stroking him expertly. "What are you up to?"

"Shh, now..." Greg whined at the loss of sensation as Edward turned away again, this time snapping a glove onto his right hand. He generously coated his fingers with lube and turned back. His grin sharpened into something hot and predatory as Greg eagerly spread his legs, and he braced himself on the mattress with his free hand as he tucked the other under his prey's bollocks, circling that sweet little pucker of flesh. As Greg cried out and pushed into him, his hole sucking one finger in without hesitation, Edward ducked his head down and took his sheathed cock into his mouth.

It wasn't optimal, of course. He had always far preferred the taste of flesh over that of latex, but then, who doesn't? And Greg's taste in particular, so musky and spicy-sweet - almost wild - well, his unique flavour was one that Edward had always remembered with a distinct longing. And to be so close now, if not for this ridiculous barrier between them... Although as he pushed himself down farther, taking that lovely thick flesh into his throat, if he could only shove a little deeper, really get his nose into the thatch of abundant dark curls... Oh, oh yes. There he was. Edward once again lamented the fact that he had let this gem of a man go all those years ago, chiding himself mentally even as he began to work his finger and his tongue in tandem.

The smell of him, the heat of him, the lovely sounds that came from his mouth and his body - they had all been his at one point, and he had carelessly discarded it all for the excitement of novelty, for the lure of the young and the beautiful. Edward glanced up from under his lashes as Greg writhed underneath the steady rhythm of his mouth, watching the way his hips rolled into him, the way his body undulated - God, nothing could be more beautiful than that. What the fuck had he been thinking? He caught John's eyes from across the room, his face a mixture of lust and uneasiness. He could clearly see what was running through Edward's head, as his expression went a little misty and sympathetic. Edward's own eyes prickled suddenly, and he fought back a wave of shame and disgust, aimed at no-one but himself. To be so desperate to be with this man that he was willing to take him any way he could have him - namely, under the extremely watchful eye of his current lover, well, that was just beyond pathetic, wasn't it?

Another low moan quickly brought him out of his head, and Edward re-doubled his efforts on that lovely prick as he neatly slotted another finger in next to the first. He wanted to bring Greg off first, wanted to really have the opportunity to relish that deep haze of satisfaction in those lovely dark eyes of his. The times that they had been in this situation before, they'd both gotten off more or less together, and of course there had been no cuddling allowed, no riding that exhilarating if comforting swell of endorphins and feeling it spread all through his body. There would still be no cuddling, he knew that, but at least he would have an extremely content lump of man underneath him, happy to let him do almost anything he wanted with him. 

Edward smiled as Greg's hips began to move a little faster, his breath coming out in sharper bursts from his nose as his grunts increased in volume and intensity. When both of his hands suddenly twined into his hair, tugging ferociously, he crooked his fingers and pressed in firmly, thrusting his hand in deep and sure as he bobbed his head. Greg let go with a loud cry as his whole body tensed, and Edward briefly but seriously entertained the idea of just whipping the condom off and sucking down every drop of his ex-lover's release, but he knew that would be a gross violation. Not just of the rules, but of Greg himself, and it would no doubt lead to him being cast out of his life altogether. So he just held on as Greg panted and cursed and squirmed underneath him, just held tight until the fierce grip on his head was gentled, as broad fingers started to comb through his hair in a silent apology. 

Edward wiggled his fingers as he straightened, smiling down at the man sprawled across the mattress, his limbs all akimbo, his face flushed pleasantly. He withdrew silently, sliding the soiled condom off and tossing it in John's small rubbish bin before giving Greg's prick a gentle wipe-down with a couple of tissues. He tossed that bundle on the ground, halfway thinking that maybe he'd just stuff it in his pocket before leaving. As he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped, shoving his clothing down to his ankles, he went ahead and did it while he was down there. What the fuck, right? So he was a pervert, what else was new? Another condom, this time for him, and another generous coating of lube. Edward paused as Greg looked up at him with a crooked grin, his eyes glowing with that familiar post-coital gleam. He felt the warmth and satisfaction of a job well done spreading through his chest and belly. God, but he had missed that. 

He probed delicately at Greg's arsehole with the head of his cock, being mindful not to just shove his way in there after having made the man come rather spectacularly, judging from the look on his face. Greg scooted his bum a bit closer to the edge of the mattress and gave him a tiny nod, and Edward took in a deep breath as he pushed all the way in with one stroke, letting it out with a quiet sigh as he settled himself. Greg's back arched, his inner muscles clenching down hard. Edward hissed in a short breath through his nose until the body wrapped around him relaxed slightly, stroking those solid thighs gently as he waited patiently.

Edward began to move in long, languid strokes, keeping his eyes fixed on Greg's face. He smiled up at him softly as he rolled his hips, matching his ex-lover's rhythm. But it faltered slightly as Edward felt his legs trembling almost uncontrollably. Not with the need for release, he wasn't there just yet, but because John's bed was a bit lower than he was used to, and he was having difficulty maintaining his balance. Greg chuckled quietly as Edward's face twisted in frustration. The burn in his thighs was too distracting, there was no way he was going to get off like this.

Greg pushed at his belly with one hand. "Off." Edward withdrew and watched as Greg rolled to his feet with ease. "Now you lie back, and let me do the work." The taller man sighed with relief as he took up Greg's former position, planting his feet firmly on the floor. Greg didn't hesitate to straddle him, and Edward politely angled his cock as the silver-haired man sank onto it with a little groan. Greg gave John a little wink as he rocked from side to side, waiting for the blush to bloom on his cheeks and start moving downward before looking back down at Edward.

His hazel eyes were shining with absolute lust, yes, but there was something else there that gave Greg pause. A hint of how things used to be, how they would have been still if he hadn't been so greedy and careless with his emotions. There was a swift surge of heat low in his gut that swiftly shot up to his brain. He had power over this man now. His lips twisted into a wicked smirk as Edward looked up at him helplessly, and he suddenly realised that he could probably ask him to do anything right now. Maybe even fuck him, for a change. He spared another glance at John, his teeth buried in his bottom lip, that tight little body held tense as he held back on his obvious arousal. No, that wasn't the arrangement. But maybe it could be negotiated for next time...

John must have read something in his face, because his head tilted in a silent question. Greg shook his head and once again focused on the man underneath him, bracing his hands on his ribs as he began to move. He started with the rhythm that Edward had established, slow and deep. Feeling the intense regard of the other men in the room directed at him and becoming a bit self-conscious due to it, Greg closed his eyes and shut down his brain, letting his body get swept away on pure sensation. He was barely even aware as Edward laced their fingers together, bracing his elbows on the mattress to give Greg the opportunity for more leverage. 

He took advantage of it instantly, raising himself up high before sinking back down again at a tortuously sedate pace. His legs trembled slightly, more with the effort of holding back rather than the exertion itself. Greg could feel that his cock was beginning to plump out again, but he sincerely doubted that he would be hard again before Edward was at his finish. Not that it mattered, because oh, it still felt so damn  _good_. Especially as E began to move with and against him, driving his hips up as Greg came down, grinding into him hard. Greg felt his mouth break out into a bright grin as Edward whined quietly underneath him, attempting to increase the pace. But he resolutely kept the pace slow and his eyes closed, knowing that his own kind-heartedness would kick in at the look of desperation in E's eyes. 

Greg felt the sweat beginning to travel down his body, his every sense attuned to his own inner workings. The gentle slip and slide of slick hard flesh deep within him, the rhythmic contractions of his outer sphincter as it allowed entrance time and time again. The way his toes were digging into the mattress, the way his fingers were starting to cramp as Edward held them in a fierce grip. The sounds and the smells - oh. Interesting how taking away one's sight automatically heightened the others. He suddenly found himself thinking of Sherlock, thinking that this was how he must see the world with that great mind of his. Only the sense that he had shut down was touch, wasn't it? The touch of others, anyhow. Greg's prick twitched valiantly as he thought of those violinist's fingers on him, or on John. How they might catalogue the different textures, how they might glide over golden skin and old war-wounds, reading both of them as a blind person reads Braille. How he might run absurd tests on him, on them together. He almost snorted with embarrassment as he pictured his intense quicksilver gaze as he scribbled notes in one of those silly notebooks of his, realising that the idea of being used as a sexual experiment was almost unbearably arousing. As long as it was Sherlock Holmes doing the experimenting, of course.

His cock twitched again, and this time he did not protest or try to control the pace as Edward swore quietly underneath him and started driving into his body just a bit quicker. "Close, darling. So close. Please." He squeezed his hands a little tighter, almost painfully. "Please open those gorgeous eyes of yours, look at me." Greg hummed as he turned his face to the source of the desperate moans and frenzied panting. "Please oh  _please_..." 

Greg took pity and opened his eyes, blinking slowly to get them adjusted to the light. He turned his gaze downward and felt an enormous swell of pride at how absolutely shattered Edward looked, his face flushed and sweaty, his body trembling almost uncontrollably. He braced his knees and lifted himself slightly, giving him room to move. "Go on, then. As hard as you need. Use me, E." Then he simply had to hold on as Edward started to thrust frantically, using his legs as much as his hips in order to violate him, hard and fast and utterly delicious. Greg moaned low, and something in the sound seemed to spur Edward on to even more desperate action, and then he was holding his breath as his body broke out into wild spasming and he was coming so hard that Greg could almost feel it through the condom, an odd little pulsing twitch pressed right up against his inner walls as the man underneath him cried out in near-agony.

Greg waited until Edward had sunk back into John's mattress, his chest heaving as he gulped in great draughts of air. He bent down to kiss him with a slight wince, realising that his legs had stiffened up a bit. Edward was too out of it to return the kiss, but his hands flailed uselessly against Greg's back and arse. With a quiet chuckle he lifted himself off and did him the favour of removing the condom and giving him the same perfunctory wipe-down that he had delivered earlier with a couple of tissues. Then he held out his hands, waiting until Edward grasped them before tugging him upright. With another little kiss, this one on the temple, he pulled again until his ex-lover was standing on his feet. He held him briefly, more to make sure that he wasn't about to fall on his face, and then released him with a happy sigh, stretching out on his belly on the bed.

When Edward was more or less aware of himself once again, he bent down to pull his clothes up and retrieve his shirt, which had ended up - where? He stood back up with another little wobble and started to look around in confusion, only to come up against John, who was holding his shirt out to him calmly. Edward blinked. At least, it looked like calm, but there was a distinct tightness at the corners of his mouth and eyes that seemed a bit more like anger. He tilted his head as he looked down at the smaller man, taking his shirt back and putting it on, making a show of tucking it into his jeans before he buttoned himself up.

"Your jacket's downstairs - I'll walk you out."

Edward shrugged as nonchalantly as he could and blew a kiss at the man lying prone on the bed. "Until next time, darling."

Greg raised a silent hand in reply, burying his face into John's pillows and wiggling his body into the mattress. John led Edward back down into the sitting room and watched with a stony face as the taller man checked his pockets and jingled his keys, making sure that nothing had fallen out. Then down the second set of stairs to the front door. Edward noted the stiff set of his shoulders with a mounting smugness, of malicious glee. He knew that there were things that Greg needed that John wouldn't be able to provide, not really. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean that the reverse wasn't true either. He had never bottomed for Greg, and it was easy to see that John had. Maybe - maybe next time he'd offer that and hope that Greg would take him up on it, would maybe even like it better when it was a nice big healthy bloke that he was holding down rather than some physically and emotionally wounded pipsqueak. 

Edward stepped out into the night and turned around with a gloating air, but he came up short when he took in the look on John's face. He had seen him angry, yes, but this was something altogether different. It was quieter, calmer, and clearly dangerous as hell. He took another small step back and raised his hand to his throat as if in protection before taking in a breath and opening his mouth.

"Whatever it is, Edward, I would strongly advise against saying it. Don't think that I need my gun in order to hurt you, and don't think that I don't have access to resources that could simply make you disappear if I wished it."

Edward snorted haughtily even as his mouth dropped open in shock. "Are you threatening me, John?"

"No. Simply stating facts." He crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance in the doorway. "I think you're forgetting that this game was instigated by me, and that I can pull the plug at any time. You're nothing but our ambulatory sex toy, Edward, and when we - when  _I_  - get bored with you, you're going straight into the rubbish bin. If you're smart, you'll at least know better than to fucking  _test_  me."

With that, he shut the door and locked it with a loud snap, signifying that the conversation was clearly over. He looked through the peephole for a minute or two as Edward stared at the door, goggle-eyed, pacing up and down in agitation before finally walking to the kerb. He waited for another minute until he was sure that the enormous arsehole wasn't going to come back and continue to make a nuisance of himself. 

Then John let out a shaky breath and leant up against the door for a moment, struggling to contain the whirlwind of emotions that was surging through his body. He was still angry, oh yes, it was definitely anger this time, although the thought of Greg lying on his bed all ready and open for him certainly made his prick stand to attention. Jesus motherfucking Christ, what had he been thinking? A quick and dirty fuck would have been one thing, but then he had watched in astonishment as Edward had gently, lovingly brought Greg to orgasm with his mouth and fingers, and the atmosphere had switched from something charged with pure lust into a sweet, aching nostalgia. 

Not that he had any real control over how the scene would have played out - those were the rules, after all. His role was to watch, not to actually run the fuck - no, no interfering allowed. Although they had both given him plenty of opportunities to back out tonight, and now that it was too late to fix it, he realised that he should have taken them up on it. He was clearly too fragile to deal with this shit tonight, goddammit. But John knew himself to be nothing if not stubborn, and now he was paying the price. He could own up to that at least, take responsibility for not judging his own emotional state well enough. But Greg was still going to have to pay for what he had done. He should have known, right? Should have remembered that this was supposed to be just about sex, not emotion. He was  _his_ , for fuck's sake, his heart belonged to  _him_ , not that overgrown club kid. John heaved out heavy sigh. Well, that was a lesson that clearly needed to be taught, and he was going to make damn sure that his lover learned it well.

He started back up the stairs with a deliberately heavy tread, working his belt loose as he went. At the first landing he folded it in half and gave it an experimental tug, nodding with satisfaction at the sharp crack it made. Then he straightened his shoulders and started up the second set of stairs to his room.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doles out his punishment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, holy crapola guys... Yet another 3k and then some, with at least half of the next chapter written as well. Hopefully I'll be able to finish that off this week, but it's hard to say, since it's busytime at work. Yay!
> 
> Please let me know what you think, please please please comment - it's my muse's lifeblood, you know.
> 
> Kisses!

When John stepped into his room, he saw that Greg had flipped over on his back and he was stroking himself gently, his eyes closed in languorous bliss. He wasn't completely hard just yet, but he was well on his way to getting there, and John fought the urge to crawl in between his legs and take that gorgeous thick cock into his mouth and show him how a blowjob was really done. It wasn't really Greg's fault that John was so angry - he was the one who had insisted on going through with it, after all. And he could try to let go of his irrational anger, and reward his lover for seeing this through even though he knew it had been a bad idea.

But no. The primal urge to claim Gregory Lestrade as his and his alone was simply too strong to be ignored at this moment. So he raised his arms and gave his belt a vicious tug, the loud crack of the leather snapping together bouncing off the walls of his small room. John may have found Greg's reaction comical if he had been in a better frame of mind, his dark eyes wide and frightened as he scampered off the bed and pressed himself up against the wall. 

He relaxed when he saw that it was just John, but that seemed to be a bit of a mistake, as the good doctor's face twisted somewhat nastily. "What the fuck?" 

"No. I'll have no nonsense from you. Back on the bed, on your knees. Hold your arms out in front of you."

"John..."

"Now, Gregory." John fought to keep his voice steady and calm. Yelling obviously wouldn't do him any favours. "Do not make me say it again."

Greg's shoulders dropped slightly, and he obediently crawled back onto the mattress, settling back on his knees and holding his arms out. John quickly lashed the belt around his wrists and roughly dragged him toward the head of the bed, winding the belt through the bedpost. It wasn't perfect, of course, he would have had to dig his rope out if he had wanted a really proper tie, but it would hold him well enough for his purposes right now. Although if he was forced to sit through another display like the one tonight, he would certainly be dusting off a lot more than just a bundle of nylon fibres.

"John, I don't..."

John snarled and grabbed at his hair, pulling his head back and glaring down at him. "Shut it. You are not to speak unless I give you permission." Greg whimpered quietly as his head was shoved back down, and John ducked into his bathroom briefly, coming back out with a folded flannel. "Open." His prisoner licked his lips before opening his mouth, and John placed the cloth in between his teeth delicately. "Obviously, you could spit this out if you wanted to, but I'm going to trust that you won't, unless you need me to stop. Is that clear?" Greg nodded, his eyes still clouded with confusion and burgeoning desire as he shifted awkwardly on his knees. John placed a couple of pillows underneath him and guided him into position, the gorgeous curve in his spine presenting his arse to him rather nicely. "Spread those legs of yours, tart. As wide as you can go."

Greg complied as best he could, his brow furrowed in concentration. John sighed as he ran his palm from the nape of his neck all the way down, squeezing hard at one arse-cheek. "You understand that I'm angry, yes?" Greg nodded. "But you don't understand why, do you?" A quick shake of the head. John squeezed again and then lifted his arm, bringing his hand down with a resounding smack against the firm flesh. He left his hand there as Greg's body jerked and he let out a startled yelp through the flannel. "In my bed, Gregory." Another hard slap, this time on the other cheek. "You just _made love_ to another man. In. My. Bed."

Greg started to shake his head, but didn't get much of a chance as three more blows rained down on his vulnerable flesh. That - that hadn't been what happened, not at all. He hadn't even been thinking of Edward as he was riding him, he had been lost in his own head - thinking of the way his own body felt, thinking of John and even Sherlock - not his ex-lover, not really. He tensed as two more punishing slaps were delivered, the skin of his arse already prickling with heat. John murmured something indistinct as his small hands caressed the reddened flesh, but Greg could barely even hear him over the pounding of the blood in his ears. He hadn't made love to Edward, not at all, but he knew that John was a little beyond accepting his protestations at this moment, and Greg also knew very well what it must have looked like from the outside. John was just too worked up, and he needed an outlet to release all of the uncertain emotions that he had been battling all night. And that at least was something that Greg could give him - he was more than willing to lay down his body if that would help John to ease his mind.

He felt John manipulating his arse-cheeks, pulling them apart and taking in the glory nestled in between. He laid another stinging slap down on his skin, directly on top of his loosened hole. The shock reverberated up and down his spine, and he felt his cock twitch as gooseflesh rippled all along his back. John hummed low, a noise of pure satisfaction, and did it again. "Oh, look at that sweet little arsehole of yours..." He dipped his fingers in, pushing and prodding as Greg stiffened underneath him. "So horribly used, and yet - it's not enough, is it, slut?" John pushed both thumbs in with slow deliberation, pulling the muscle apart gently. "No, it's never enough. You need me, don't you? Need me to fuck all the breath out of you, to fuck him out of your mind completely. Mine, Gregory. You belong to me, and I am going to make sure that you never forget it."

Greg moaned incoherently and nodded. Whatever this was at this moment, the game had originally been about possession, he knew that. From the beginning, it had been about John watching him get taken by another man just so he could take him back when the intruder was finished with him. It was about reasserting his dominance, renewing his claim. And that was something that Greg understood, something that he could give him, that he was even eager to offer. He jerked again as there was another sharp sting, one hand buried deep in his arse as the other slapped and pinched and twisted. Greg couldn't prevent from rolling his hips into that hand, and found quite to his embarrassment that his cock had hardened fully and was demanding attention.

John laughed wickedly as he reached between his legs and tugged on his bollocks viciously before stroking his length languidly. "Oh, look who's woken up... Could it be that you actually like being beaten, my beautiful whore?" Greg shook his head decisively, even as the evidence in John's hand twitched again. "No? No, you're right - that isn't it. You just like being used, don't you? I mean, you should see yourself all spread out for me, just waiting for me to take what's rightfully mine." John reached for the supplies that were still laid out, simply unzipping himself and letting his fully erect cock hang out from his jeans. "You already got soft and slow, so you better be prepared for hard and fast, slut." 

Greg turned his head and eyed John as best his could from his compromised position. The smaller man must have read the apprehension in his eyes, as he laughed low and dark while rolling the condom on. It wasn't John's cock that frightened him, of course. Why would it be, seeing as how he had become very familiar with it over the past few months? It was the burning and stinging of his tender flesh that was giving him pause, and the thought of that rough fabric rubbing up against him, maybe even getting pinched by the edges of the zipper... Ouch. He winced as John started to spread lube liberally over his stiff prick, and John smirked slightly as he took in the look on his face. 

"Oh, fine." He swiftly unbuttoned and shoved everything down to mid-thigh. "Can't have you getting all tensed up, I suppose." He climbed up onto the bed and insinuated himself in between Greg's spread thighs, once again squeezing his arse-cheeks hard, holding him open and horribly exposed. "No, I don't want to feel any fight in you. Want you nice and easy and loose, just like a proper fucktoy should be." Greg took in a deep breath through his nose and let his head drop to the mattress, doing his best to let his body go slack. John practically purred with satisfaction behind him, causing his spine to ripple slightly. "Yes, just like that. You're so gorgeous like this, Gregory. Bound and helpless, just waiting for me to take my pleasure from you. To use you as is my right." John delivered one last stinging blow before shoving his way in rudely, grasping Greg's hips and grinding deep into him. "Oh, fuck yes.  _Mine._  All fucking mine."  

Greg moaned through his gag, attempting to voice his agreement, but then a swift burst of air was shoved out of his nose as John started to move behind him. Not too rough, not at first, his hands holding hard onto his waist as he pulled out nearly all the way and slid back in smoothly a few times. John groaned as his hands moved, holding his cheeks apart as he watched himself sliding in and out. "So beautiful. And mine, Gregory. Don't you ever forget that again." Greg shook his head, once again trying to indicate his agreement, his desire to please him, but that was when John started to fuck him roughly, pulling out and ramming himself back in, no more words, just the indistinct grunts passing through his mouth and the noise of flesh slapping against flesh.

Greg whimpered at every brief contact, the skin of his backside enflamed and tender and all-too-aware of each sharp jerk against him. John cursed loudly and suddenly bent down over Greg's back, one hand in between his shoulder blades, pushing him down even further into the mattress. Greg grunted as his chest was compressed, making his breathing a little difficult. But he held on as his lover kept moving within him in short, sharp jerks of his hips, almost brutal in his intensity. Greg held on as his head started to go a little fuzzy, only the pillows that he was propped up on keeping him upright. If he had been able to speak, he would have been encouraging John along, telling him all of the things that he apparently needed to hear.  _'Yes, I'm yours, no, I won't forget. Not ever, Captain my Captain. Yours, always.'_

Not that John really did need to hear it, because he knew. Of course he did. Greg moaned again as hot breath washed down his spine, John's hips shoving his cock deeper into him, faster and faster still. He could tell that he was close, not that the first fuck after one of their little visits with Edward was ever an extended one, oh no. John was usually so worked up at that point that it didn't take long at all. This was apparently no exception, as John let another strangled curse pass through his lips as he pushed in so hard that Greg's head nearly collided with the headboard. Small but strong hands suddenly clasped tight to his shoulders as he pulled Greg's body down into him, and he felt John's cock jump within him in three strong jerks. 

John didn't take the time to relish his aftershocks as he usually did, withdrawing almost immediately. He backed off the bed and discarded the condom before unwinding the belt from the bedpost. He didn't release Greg's wrists though, just rolled him over onto his back without ceremony. He climbed back in between his legs and wrapped the end of the belt around his left hand, holding it taut and forcing Greg's arms down over his torso. John licked his lips as he looked down at Greg's cock straining up against his belly, leaving a trail of pre-come over his skin. John's eyes absolutely blazed with desire and greed as he looked up into Greg's face, wrapping his free hand around his prick. He stroked him steadily, expertly, his movements borne out of precision and economy.

"This is mine as well, Gregory. He isn't allowed to touch you in that manner again." Greg's eyebrows turned down and it seemed that he might object, but with a twist of his wrist, John wiped that dissension right out of his head. John smirked as he tugged on the belt holding Greg's arms together and started to lean down. "Not that he could do it properly anyhow." With a low hum, he took the head of Greg's cock into his mouth and started to bob up and down, sucking hard. Greg's back bowed as his hips drove his prick into John's throat and a strangled cry burst from behind the flannel still clenched in his teeth.

John let him wriggle and writhe underneath him, let him take what he needed, and it wasn't long before his breath quickened into short sharp bursts being pushed from his nose, sweat beading up on his chest, and then his whole body tensed as he unloaded into his lover's hot mouth. John swallowed it all eagerly, withdrawing and licking him clean as Greg blinked himself back into his body. 

" _Mm, yes_. All mine. Bet that bastard was just dying to taste you properly, but he doesn't get that privilege, does he, Gregory?" Greg mumbled into his makeshift gag, shaking his head from side to side listlessly. John hummed with satisfaction as he ran his hand over his belly and down his thighs, petting him delicately. "God, you're utterly perfect like this. Completely wrecked, and mine to do with as I please." 

_"Mmph."_  

John chuckled quietly and finally reached up to remove the belt from his wrists, gently rubbing each in turn to ensure that blood was flowing freely. Then he went to his hands and knees over the prostrate man, prying the cloth from between his teeth. Greg stuck out his tongue briefly, smacking his dry lips together audibly. John laughed again and rolled off the mattress, heading into the bathroom. "Just stay put for a moment, Gregory." He swiftly stripped down before wiping himself off, and filled a glass with water. John helped Greg to sit up just enough to suck it down, and then pulled the blankets up before crawling into bed at Greg's side. 

The silver-haired man blinked up at the ceiling for a long while, finally turning into his lover and settling his head down on his chest. John wrapped his arms around him and caressed him languidly, his anger seemingly spent. "We'll sleep here, yeah? Go back to yours in the morning."

"John..." 

Greg's voice was hesitant, almost scared. John blinked down at him with a little frown, but Greg didn't lift his head. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" 

"I wasn't... I din't... What you think, that's not what it was about. You - you din't even give me a chance to explain." 

John felt a cold lump start to form somewhere between his sternum and his belly. He clutched Greg tighter. "Tell me, then."

"I din't know that he was going to do - that, and it wasn't against the rules, you know. He did everything he was supposed to, wrapped it all up. It's not fair for you to be angry about that. It's not fair that you're angry about us doing it here, in your bed. This is where you wanted to be, remember? We both offered to do it on another night, but you overrode us. I understand why, I really do, but you know that you could have stopped it at any time." Greg curled in on himself slightly. "And I din't make love to him, John. I wasn't even looking at him... My eyes were closed, my head was somewhere else completely. I was just using him, the way you like. Using him while thinking of - of..."

"Of me?" John's voice cracked, the cold lump growing into an iceberg crashing into his heart. 

Greg nodded miserably, keeping his face tucked into John's chest. "And - and Sherlock, like before. You and Sherlock, that's all. How my own body felt taking him in, but I was barely even thinking of him at all, to be honest. I know what it must've looked like from your perspective, but that's really not what it was about, I swear to you."

"Why didn't you say - why didn't you stop me? For God's sake, Gregory, I practically abused you!"

Greg shrunk into himself a bit further. "You needed it. Needed to let your anger and fear out. Wanted to help, that's all."

"Jeeezusss..." John threaded his fingers through Greg's silver hair and ran them down his back gently. "I'm so, so sorry, sweetheart. But don't think that you ever have to do something like that again. You're my lover, not my therapist." He felt what seemed like a somewhat shaky smile blooming on the lips that were pressed firmly to his skin, but he wasn't quite sure. He hesitated, feeling more than a bit monstrous. "Want me to, um, sleep downstairs?"

Greg mumbled something in the negative as he clutched John to him tighter. "Want you here with me. Need you, John." 

"All right, love. It's all right. I'm right here." Greg's tight grip on him suddenly slackened, as his breathing became something soft and steady. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise you." John stretched up and turned off the light, blinking into the darkness for a long time, his shame nagging at him and refusing to let him sleep. The day had been lovely, but the night a disaster, and it was all his fault. His mind churned with half-formed plans of somehow making it up to Greg, debating whether or not he would even want him to follow him home, even though they still had one full day to themselves. John wouldn't blame him if he just left him here in the morning, or just walked out of his life altogether. His stomach cramped uncomfortably at the thought, but there was a part of him that knew that it was quite ridiculous. Hadn't Greg already proved his devotion the best way he knew how - by laying himself down for him as he had tonight, without any reservations, with no hesitation whatsoever? 

Finally the warmth of the man at his side lured him into slumber, his mind spinning into silence as he unconsciously mimicked the rhythm of Greg's breath and then he fell deep into darkness.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and John's apologies...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that some of you were less than impressed with John's little display, and I'm hoping this makes up for it.
> 
> Please do let me know how I'm doing.
> 
> (Oh, and if you didn't receive notification, chapter 29 has been updated with actual text, and not just a random tease. Yay!)
> 
> *mwah*

"John?"

John's head snapped up and he looked up at the open doorway to his room. He was already halfway up the stairs with his tray, but Greg's voice had sounded panicked, so rather than keeping quiet and simply continuing on his journey, he decided to call back. "Just coming, love."

When he entered his room, he laid his burden down on the desk and turned toward the bed, where Greg was half-reclining, half-sitting, one hand held out to him in a mute request. John blinked at him and put his hand in his, and was nearly lifted off his feet as he was pulled back into bed. He let Greg push him into whatever position he liked, as the silver-haired man tucked himself in close to his back and started rocking their bodies together gently.

"Woke up and you were gone. Gave me a bit of a fright."

John felt his eyebrows jump as he took in the slightly shaky tone of Greg's voice. "I thought it might be nice if I brought you some tea, that's all. A few nibbles. Nothing extravagant in, of course." He patted the arm that was wrapped firmly around his middle. "We can go out to a café for something more substantial, if you like." He took in a great draught of air. "If you even still want to spend the day with me, that is." Greg's only answer was a tightening of his arm and his nose being pressed firmly into the nape of John's neck. John felt a little hitch in his chest and a prickling in his eyes, but he stalwartly ignored both as he patted his arm again. "Tea's going cold, sweetheart."

_"Mmph."_  Greg mouthed at the scar on John's shoulder briefly, causing a shiver to run through his body. "Don't wanna let go."

John blinked at the tea-tray as he considered. Not that Greg wasn't a natural cuddler, because he certainly was, but he was also not one to pass up a cup of John's tea and the possibility of filling his belly. This was clearly something more than his usual morning-after snuggle. It had been a while since John had been involved in any regular D/s play, although he'd had the occasional romp that had brought that side of him out. Even in a casual situation, there had usually been a bit of pampering required afterwards, a process that he tended to relish a bit more than the romp itself, if John were to be quite honest with himself. It seemed that perhaps his overly-aggressive display of dominance last night had affected Greg more than he had initially realised, and now he was feeling the need for some reassurance. John had most likely sent Greg into subspace at some point, and his unusually clingy behaviour was undoubtedly a reaction to that. After all, Greg was not a naturally submissive man, so he wasn't used to being in that frame of mind. Even if he had bottomed regularly for Edward and maybe even others in his past, that wasn't the same as submission, not at all. They hadn't really discussed it, but John was fairly sure that he was the only one to have earned that particular privilege.

And Greg had definitely submitted last night, even if John felt that he had unconsciously bullied him into it to a certain degree. He was fairly sure that Greg wouldn't see it that way, he undoubtedly felt that it was something that he had done of his own free will, for no other reason than he believed that his lover needed it from him. John once again felt his cheeks burning with shame and resolved that today would be all about Greg. Whatever he wanted, whatever he needed. Although right now, he didn't think that Greg would be able to tell him his needs or his wants - his demeanour was entirely too quiet and subdued. For someone with as much naturally cheerful energy as he usually displayed, John found his silence to be extremely disconcerting. He was going to take care of him, yes, but he was apparently going to have to be a bit pushy about it, as Greg's head seemed to be somewhat stuck in subby mode. 

John sighed quietly. Right, then. He had let his stupidly selfish side out to play last night, so today would be the reverse, the loving if persistent caretaker. "You're going to let me feed you, Gregory."

Greg's grip slackened slightly, and John experimentally wiggled a bit closer to the edge of the mattress. When there was no immediate protest from the man at his back, he slipped from the bed and retrieved the tray, watching with concern as Greg shifted into a seated position with a little wince. John's stomach twisted with an odd combination of self-disgust and an uncomfortable amount of pride. It seemed that he had left a mark or two, and Greg was clearly going to be feeling them for a little while.

He settled down onto the mattress next to Greg and held out his tea. "I'm going to want to look at that a bit later."

"It's fine, John."

He took a sip of his tea as John turned to face him with one eyebrow elevated. "Gregory. You'll do as I say." He held out a biscuit, one of Greg's favourites. The silver-haired man meekly took a bite directly from his fingers rather than reaching up to grab it on his own. Oh yes - he was definitely still in a submissive state of mind. John smiled at him reassuringly and fed him the second bite. "Good. That's lovely, sweetheart." 

Greg leant into him with a small but grateful smile and took two more biscuits in that same manner, with John picking the crumbs out of his chest hair and presenting his fingers to his lover to lick clean. When he seemed to be satisfied for the moment, John hastily sucked down his own lukewarm tea and devoured a couple of biscuits himself. His stomach rumbled uneasily, both because of his lingering sense of guilt and because there was no way his body was going to be content with nothing but that paltry snack. He had to get them cleaned up and out of the flat. But first...

John set the tray aside after taking Greg's empty cup away from him. "All right, then - turn over, let me see." Greg's fingers twisted together awkwardly as John sighed. "If you really don't want me to take a look, you are free to tell me so and I won't. But I'd very much like to make sure that I haven't injured you." He paused and reached out to run his thumb over Greg's lips, smiling as he tilted his face up into his touch. "Please, Gregory. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else."

That seemed to be the correct tack to take, as Greg smiled at him a little shakily and started to twist his body so that he was spread out on his belly. John waited until he was fully settled before drawing the bedclothes back, sucking in air through his teeth with a little hiss. It wasn't that bad, not really, but he was glad that he hadn't given in to his initial urge to use his belt on that lovely backside rather than his bare hand. It had only been the realisation that it wasn't Greg's fault that had managed to push through the red haze in his mind and seek to quell that particular desire, leading him to use the belt as nothing but a scare tactic and a restraint instead.

Greg shifted uncomfortably as the warmth of the blankets was taken away, and he glanced back at John with a little apprehension in his eyes. John held his hands up in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "Just a look, I promise." He went to his knees at Greg's side and looked down, his eyes once again prickling with the imminent threat of tears. The skin wasn't too red, no - only a few patches of blotchy pink remaining, but there were a number of small bruises, not the least of which was a distinct imprint of his hand on Greg's right arse-cheek. He let his hand hover over the mark briefly, comparing the size, the shape. John couldn't even imagine the force that he must have used, he had been so out of it at the time... He shook his head slightly as he stared at the mark intently, burning the image into his mind. This was what happened when he let his baser emotions run away with him. John suddenly felt a bit like Doctor Jekyll surveying the aftermath of one of Mr. Hyde's rampages, his chest and belly once again filling with a cold vapour. The only difference was that Jekyll could not control his inner monster, whereas John could. Or at least he should. This could not happen again - it would _not_ happen again.

Greg tensed uneasily as John let one finger gently trace along another small purple mark on his left cheek. John pulled away immediately, once again holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry, love, sorry." He tilted his head and tried to smile encouragingly. "But... Is it all right if I do touch? Light and gentle, that's all." The silver-haired man nodded after a brief hesitation, his entire body still being held in an attitude of caution and watchfulness. "Thank you, Gregory. You're being so good for me, you know." Greg hummed deep in his throat as he suddenly grinned rather foolishly, and John felt a tiny bit of his guilt wash away. 

John gently placed his hand low on the back of one thigh, stroking his lover aimlessly, letting him get used to the feel of his hand before moving it upward. He kept his touch light just as he had promised, swiping his palm and fingers over his skin in a soothing motion. As Greg began to relax underneath his hand, John bent down slightly and started to press gentle kisses over each small bruise. When he had bestowed his mute apologies on each mark, he shifted until he was curled up into Greg's body, his head pillowed on his lower back, his hand still moving in a constant repetitive pattern over and around his poor abused bum.

Greg moaned quietly, a sound that carried more relief in it than arousal, and John felt a little more of his uneasiness vanish as it washed over him. But with his head pillowed where it was, it was a little difficult to ignore the persistent rumblings of Greg's stomach. He laughed quietly as it let out a particularly loud growl, and this time Greg's vocalisation was one of embarrassment. John pulled away, studiously not paying any attention to the way that Greg instinctively reached out for him. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's clean up and then see about appeasing that tyrant belly of yours." Greg nodded and pushed himself out of John's bed with a small grunt, quietly following behind his lover as he led him downstairs to the main bathroom. John frowned slightly as he started to draw a bath. A shower would be more efficient, of course, but Greg apparently needed a bit more coddling, a desire that John would be all too happy to accommodate. It hadn't escaped his notice that his lover had barely said more than twenty words since waking up this morning, and he was hoping that he'd be a little more animated before they had to deal with the public. 

He eyed his lover as he leant up against the counter, swiftly realising that his non-verbal apologies upstairs in his bed had affected Greg's prick a bit more than he had originally thought or even planned, as it was plumped up rather nicely. That was it, then. A little bit of physical affection, a sweet release, and maybe that would help to knock a bit of the sense back into his brain. He held out his hand and pulled Greg into the tub with him, waiting until he settled down with a little wince before tucking himself in between his legs. It was a bit of a tight fit, of course, but if he wiggled just so... Hm. Greg's cock tucked rather nicely into the small of his back, didn't it?

John wriggled and writhed a little more, smiling to himself as Greg stretched languidly underneath him with a quiet hum. He tilted his head to the side as Greg's hands stroked him idly, over shoulders and chest and arms. Then he began to gently sway his hips from side to side, grinding his body into Greg's groin, sighing as his prick swiftly began to harden underneath him. John ignored his own arousal for the moment, simply listening to his lover's soft grunts as he pushed up against him, the quickening of his heartbeat against his ear. They laid together like that for a good long while, the water slowly cooling around their bodies as they pushed and pulled and twisted gently.

It wasn't until he reached down to give himself a leisurely tug or two that Greg broke his silence, his hands tightening on John's shoulders. "John, please." 

John hummed in acknowledgement, sitting up and pulling the stopper on the plughole before kneeling in between Greg's legs and turning to face him. The silver-haired man looked up at him in desperation, his eyes almost wild with desire, his beautiful thick cock standing to attention. John smirked slightly as he reached for Sherlock's conditioner, and Greg moaned in relief, his hands clutching hard at his thighs as he nodded. One healthy dollop of something citrus-scented and blessedly slick was quickly smeared over both of them, and John carefully lowered himself onto Greg's body. He planted his feet on the wall of the tub and started rocking on top of his lover, both of them groaning at the sensation of their cocks sliding against each other.

"Oh, Jesus yes - that's good." Greg moved his hips in short, sharp jerks to counterpoint John's steady rhythm, and they both realised that it wouldn't take long at all. Either their extended teasing here in the bath had gotten them both a bit overwrought, or perhaps Greg wasn't the only one needing a certain amount of reassurance. "John..."

Greg's hands clamped hard onto his backside, and John sucked in a swift breath, bracing his feet even further and rocking faster. He pushed himself up a bit to look down into Greg's face, twisted with concentration as he used his arms to pull John up into him and then back down again. "God, you're so beautiful." Greg's eyes widened as they connected with John's, and he took in a harsh breath, his arms suddenly trembling almost uncontrollably. "Most beautiful man I've ever seen. And you're all mine." 

John stifled Greg's sudden cry with his mouth, kissing him fiercely as he flew to bits underneath him, his belly being flooded by his lover's hot come, the smell of the sea overriding that of overpriced oranges, and as strong hands dug into his backside, as the hint of nails pierced his flesh, John came as well, his vision going a little swimmy as he pressed his open mouth to Greg's neck and shuddered out a quick _'ah-ah-oh-AH'_ along with his release.

After that, there was nothing but the sounds of harsh breathing echoing off the walls of the tub, heartbeats colliding against ribcages, soft murmurs and the tightening of strong arms around him. John sighed with contentment as Greg hummed quietly, a small chuckle vibrating underneath him. "Jesus, John. Sexy little thing. You've gone and made me all loopy." 

John giggled unabashedly. "I think that's more to do with having no food in your belly than it does with me." He wriggled a little uncomfortably, more than aware of the slick mess that was captured between them. "A quick wash, and then to the café, yeah? It's only just down the road, won't take us but ten minutes to walk there."

"Walk? You expect me to _walk_?" Greg huffed out a quick breath. "I don't think these old legs of mine will let me stand, much less walk anywhere..."

John levered himself up, pleased that Greg was definitely livelier than he had been earlier. "Only one way to find out, Gregory." He got to his feet a little creakily, and held out his hand. "Hup!" 

Greg gave him the stink-eye, but he did at least take John's hand, with a quiet, "Yes sir, Captain my Captain." John winced slightly as he heard joints popping in protest, but his silver-haired lover just grinned at him as he went up on his toes, stretching his arms over his head luxuriously. 

John turned the shower on and set to work, washing his lover and then himself in quick succession. And while Greg did take every opportunity he could possibly seize upon to either press up against him or drape himself over his back, John noted with a bit of pride that his earlier reluctance to let him out of his grasp for even a second had abated. Greg waited for one last rinse and then simply stood there as John turned off the water and stepped out onto the bathmat.

John turned with towel in hand, one eyebrow raising high as Greg grinned at him again and shrugged idly, not moving an inch. "I think I like you treating me with kid gloves." He blinked at him and held the towel open, waiting for his lover to step into his arms before wrapping it around him and gently rubbing him dry. "But it isn't necessary, you know. I'm not angry - or upset."

"I know, sweetheart. I know that you willingly gave yourself to me because you wanted to, because you thought I needed it." John sighed heavily as he went up on his toes and ran the towel over Greg's head, smiling faintly as his lover pulled a face. "But that doesn't make what I did to you right." He tilted his head as Greg reached out to trail his fingers along his arm. "And yeah, maybe I'm coddling you as an apology of sorts, even if you think I don't need to give one. But it's something else, too." He paused as he dried himself, looking up into Greg's eyes when he was done. "You may not be upset, but you are unsettled. Truthfully, I am too. I lost control last night, and that is just _unacceptable_. I didn't know that I had that in me - at least, not to that extent. In a way, I need this as much as you do. I need to know that I'm still capable of being gentle and caring, especially toward you."

Greg pulled him into a fierce embrace, pressing his lips to his damp hair. "John..."

John breathed him in, running his nose along his clavicle. "I can't fuck this up - I just can't. If I lose you, Greg..."

"You won't. God, no. Just a stumble, love, not a fall." He squeezed his lover so firmly that John felt his air leave him with a tiny squeak, and Greg broke out into laughter as he lessened his hold. He turned away slightly, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes, and John pretended not to see even as he stifled the little sob that was threatening to burst from his throat. "No, for good or ill, you have me." Greg turned back and held out his hand, his brilliant grin once again in place as John twined their fingers together. "Take care of me, John. Please."

John tugged on his hand. "Food." He grinned as Greg's eyebrows came together and slowly rose up his forehead. "Oh, fine. Clothing, then food. Such a pedant." John sighed heavily, rolling his eyes melodramatically. "And here I was thinking that was Sherlock's job." 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An afternoon out, and then an evening in...

Ten minutes later found them both fully dressed and pressed up against the door to the outside world. Once out there, neither of them would feel entirely comfortable showing even the smallest amount of affection toward one another, and after the carefree hand-holding and easy-going camaraderie of the day before, they both found that to be a rather daunting thought. John sighed heavily against Greg's lips as the older man shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, cupping his arse and squeezing gently.

"Greg..."

"Mm-hmm?"

John sighed again as his lover rolled them both, easily pressing his back into the wall next to the door. His lips were firmly attached to his throat, his tongue probing gently - not deeply enough to leave a mark, but with enough pressure to send a jolt of pure pleasure streaking through his belly and down into the root of his cock. John tried to push him away, but somehow just ended up going up on his toes and hooking a foot around the back of one of Greg's knees. The smaller man blinked slowly. How had that happened? Oh, but did it really matter? No - especially not when Greg's grip on him shifted, and John suddenly found himself being lifted up, and he obligingly wrapped his legs around his lover's waist, his arms coming up around his neck and holding him tight. Oh God, yes... But...no. No, this wasn't right. Was it?

John shook his head firmly, trying to marshal the thoughts that were swiftly dribbling out of his brain through his ears. "Greg." He attempted to put his hands on his shoulders, intending to push him away, but they rebelled and wound themselves into the hair at the back of Greg's head instead, holding him close to his neck. Greg leant into him even harder, panting hot breath across John's clavicle and then he felt the stomach that was pressed up against him quiver with a mighty rumble. Greg groaned quietly as John burst into startled giggles. He tilted his head back against the wall and directed his laughter up to the ceiling as Greg vocalised his mortification once again. "Ah, yes. That's it. I knew there was a reason we needed to go out. Shame on you for trying to make me forget, Gregory. And you were being so good for me..."

"Hrmph."

John smirked at his lover's grumpy tone, but suspected that was due to his empty stomach as much as it was to his demanding prick. He giggled again as he pulled his lover's face out of the shelter of his neck, cupping his jaw and running his thumbs along his bright-pink cheeks. "First, you're going to put me down, and then we are going _out_. We will walk, we will eat, and then we will go back to yours and sequester ourselves away for the remainder of the day." He wriggled his hips against the tantalising hardness pressing into him before giggling again. "I just need you to put a leash on _that_ while we appease _this_." John poked at Greg's belly, which promptly broke out into another loud tirade. This time it was Greg who chuckled as he let John slip from his grip and slide down the wall until his feet were once again on solid ground. John looked up at him and smiled brightly, letting a distinct smoulder set into his eyes. "And once we do get back to yours, that leash can come off and you can do anything to me that you like."

Greg bit his lip as his body shivered, and his grip on John's waist gentled, suddenly shifting into something a little more tentative and shy. "Promise?"

John blinked up at him. Oh, so he was still feeling a bit subby, then. "As long as you're good for me, yes. I promise."

Greg abruptly stepped away and turned his body slightly, staring off into the middle distance. John bit off his giggles as he recognised his lover's attempt to quell his burgeoning desire, and went through his own little ritual of decidedly non-erotic thoughts and clenching his fists to help re-direct blood flow. After a few minutes, Greg turned back, his face composed and a little less pinked about the cheeks and neck. John reached out and let his pinkie finger wrap around Greg's, giving him a little tug toward the door. Once outside, they released each other and started down the pavement, staying as close as they dared, letting their arms brush up against one another from time to time.

The café was nearly full, but not overly busy, the patrons mostly subdued as they lingered over their mid-day meals. John frowned slightly as he perused the menu, finding the idea of a full fry-up extremely appealing but decidedly not at the same time. Too greasy, and if they wanted to have a bit of fun later... Hm. He smiled in approval as Greg ordered some lemon crêpes, and followed his example, going for a savoury option instead. Then they both sat back to observe their fellow diners as they waited for the food to arrive, Greg clutching at his stomach from time to time as the enticing aromas of the other patrons' food wafted over to their table. John tapped on Greg's foot, and stretched his hand out over the surface of the table. With a little glance around, Greg copied the motion, so that just the tips of their fingers touched. The silver-haired man blushed fiercely as he grinned, his full attention on John's face.

The waitress smiled at them with twinkling eyes as she delivered their food, shaking her head as Greg jumped in his seat and turned his blinding grin on her in gratitude. Then he promptly dug in as the server turned away and left them in peace. John tucked in at a more sedate pace, calling her back for more coffee when he was about halfway done, asking for some pasties to go. Greg winked at him over his plate, knowing that the pies were meant for their dinner, and that John's promise was holding true. Once they were done here, they would have the entire afternoon and evening to themselves in the privacy of Greg's flat.

Obviously eager to get there, Greg practically inhaled his food and frowned mightily as John lingered, eating with a calm and steady precision. He raised one eyebrow as Greg huffed impatiently. "I told you to be good for me, Gregory." His voice was pitched low and deep, and the silver-haired man shivered almost imperceptibly as he folded his hands in his lap and did his damnedest to not fidget unduly. After another pass from the waitress, delivering the pasties in a takeaway carton and taking yet another request for additional coffee, John picked through the last item on his plate, a small bowl of fruit. He plucked the one appetising bit from the colourless pile, a luscious-looking strawberry that seemed to be a bit incongruous with the lateness of the year. John nibbled on the bottom delicately, glancing at Greg from under his lashes. The silver-haired man bit his lip, his eyes tracking the tiny bit of juice that had escaped from one corner of John's mouth.

With a quick look around the room to make sure that nobody was paying them the least bit of attention, John reached over the table and swirled the berry in the lemon and sugar that had been left behind on Greg's plate. He brought it back to his lips and licked at the tart sweetness delicately, taking a small bite as Greg practically vibrated right off his chair. Then he did it again, that same reach and sweep, capturing the last of the citrusy sauce on the remaining half of the strawberry. Another quick glance around them, then John held it up to Greg's mouth, smiling wickedly as his lover moaned quiet and deep, ducking his head and flickering just the tip of his tongue over John's fingers before closing his teeth around the fruit and pulling away, a look of sheer bliss stealing over his features.

_"Guh."_  They both jumped slightly and turned guilty looks on their server, who had appeared as if by magic as all of her kind were wont to do. She had seemingly been struck nearly dumb by their inappropriate display and was simply blinking down at the both of them as if lost in a dream. She shook her head forcefully as John hastily opened his mouth, an apology lingering on his lips, putting the water carafe she was holding down and reaching into the pocket of her apron. "No, no. I was going to ask if you wanted anything else, but you're clearly finished, aren't you? Here's the bill, pay it quickly and for Heaven's sake, get yourselves behind a locked door." She turned incredulous eyes on John, her tone slightly accusing. "I cannot believe you haven't just pulled that man under this table and snogged him utterly stupid already."

Greg pulled a truly impressive pout as he took some notes from his wallet and put them on the table. "He's been teasing me almost unbearably..."  The waitress' hands flailed about a bit, clearly fighting back the urge to pat his shoulder or head in commiseration.

"Gregory." John did his best to ignore the woman's quiet squeal at the stern tone of his voice, but he couldn't help a small grin from breaking out as Greg winked at him. He sighed heavily and pushed his chair back, standing with a snap. "Fine. Let's get on, then, shall we?" He turned back to the server, who was giving his lover a thumbs-up and a broad smile. "Um, thank you, miss."

"Oh no. Thank you." She snatched the money off the table and turned away, immediately pulling a co-worker aside. "Betty, could you be a dear and cover my tables for about ten minutes or so? I really really need a bit of a break..."

John practically stuffed his whole fist in his mouth to stifle his giggles and turned to Greg, but he was already across the room, impatiently waiting for him at the door. He relayed what he had heard on the way out, and Greg let a full-throated chuckle roll out of his chest. He bumped into John companionably, and the smaller man giggled again. "All those years of trying to get them wet for me, and it turns out that all I needed was another bloke in the bed?"

"Too late for any of them now!"

John looked up at him as they walked and reached out to run his fingers over the back of Greg's hand. "Yeah, it is." He felt a swift spike of desire low in his belly as Greg blushed and scuffed his feet on the pavement. John swung the bag containing their dinner and promptly walked to the kerb, beckoning at one of the cabs that was cruising past. "Let's get you home so I can take that nice lady's advice. I want to snog you until you can't move any more."

_"Nghk."_

They managed to contain themselves to merely holding hands across the back seat of the cab on the way to Greg’s, both of them looking out of their respective windows in order to maintain some semblance of dignity. Greg took the lead up the stairs, his keys ready in his hand as they got to the door. Maintaining their easy silence, John first deposited their dinner in the fridge and then went into the bedroom, not at all surprised as Greg followed. Once again, he seemed to need to know where John was and what he was doing.

John stripped down to his pants and vest before pulling out his dressing gown, tossing that on and belting it lightly. He turned raised brows on his lover, who eagerly followed his example before once again trailing after him rather like a lost puppy. Back in the sitting room, John settled down on one end of the sofa and gestured to the telly.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Greg bit his lip and ran his fingers over his selection of DVDs, eventually settling on something and plugging it in. John smiled as the title card came up - _The Court Jester_. This was actually one of his favourites, and he was pleased that Greg had picked something light-hearted rather than dark and moody - or gory. For as much blood as he saw in his average work day, Gregory Lestrade seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in seeing the fake stuff splashed about on his television screen.

Greg stretched out with a quiet sigh on the empty expanse of sofa, pillowing his head on John’s lap. His lover hummed his approval and they settled into a comfortable silence, giggling companionably as Danny Kaye leapt about in the guise of a jester playing at being a dashing rogue. It wasn’t long before a familiar tension began to build between the two men as they relaxed into each other, Greg idly caressing John’s knee as the smaller man ran his fingers through his silver hair.

John hissed in a nearly silent breath as Greg shifted slightly, snuggling into him just a bit deeper, the solid weight of his head nestling firmly against his groin. He tweaked his ear gently as his lover chuckled quietly, but then they both settled again, sharing an unspoken conviction to make it through at least one film before allowing themselves a little mutual degradation. John let his fingers travel along a prickly jawline, scratching at Greg’s stubble gently, adoring the way it felt on his skin and under his nails.

Greg hummed his approval, waiting until he was caressing his chin before ducking his head slightly and immediately sucking two of his fingers into his mouth. His tongue worked at the digits carefully, his teeth nibbling at the tips delicately. His lips turned up at John’s breathy sigh, but he resolutely kept his eyes trained on the television as he deliberately bumped his head against the prick that was hardening against him.

John growled low and suddenly pulled his fingers from Greg’s mouth, crossing his arms over his chest firmly. “Behave, you deplorable hussy.” Greg whined unhappily, but obeyed, subsiding as he scooted his head toward John’s knees and settled down once again. John couldn’t maintain his stiff posture for long however, and soon enough his fingers were combing lightly through Greg’s hair and down into the collar of his robe. Greg hummed idly and giggled at the antics on the screen along with his lover, and once again it wasn’t long before that energy crackled between them, only becoming more intense the longer they tried to ignore it.

The credits had just popped up when Greg rolled onto his back, deliberately bumping against the considerable bulge tucked away under John’s dressing gown. He grinned up at him as small fingers twisted in his hair, as his lover looked down at him with eyes that had gone nearly black with arousal.

“John?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You’ve behaved very well.” John grinned a little ruefully. “Maybe one or two slip-ups, but they were very small and you corrected yourself very quickly. So I’ll let you have a treat. Tell me what you want.”

“Mm.” Greg stretched and licked his lips. “I want to suck you.” He fluttered his eyelashes becomingly as John chuckled down at him. “May I?”

John tapped his chin as he appeared to consider. “I suppose you may. As long as you allow me the honour of returning the favour. No touching yourself while you’re down there - you’re to save that for me.”

“Yes _sir_ , Captain my Captain.” Greg rolled off the sofa and on to his knees, eagerly shuffling forward until he was tucked up in between John’s spread thighs. He began by pulling him in for a kiss, one hand cupping the back of his neck firmly while the other fiddled with the tie on his robe. Once he had that open, he didn’t hesitate to rub the flat of his palm against his lover’s cock firmly, the ruddy head already peeking out from the flap of his boxers.

Then he ran his hand upward under his vest, reaching unerringly for his left nipple, smiling against John’s mouth as he gasped and then moaned. Greg’s fingers veered a little further afield, finding that odd little spot under his left armpit that always made him shiver with delight. John moaned again, his hands coming up to rest on Greg’s shoulders, applying just a bit of downward pressure.

Greg chuckled quietly as he ducked his head down into the crook of his neck, licking and nibbling lightly. “Impatient, my sweet?”

“Tease. You know that I’ve been hard off and on for the past hour and a half at the very least.” He ran his hands under Greg’s robe and around to his bum, digging in hard with the tips of his fingers. “Want to see those beautiful lips of yours around my cock, want to feel your tongue on me.” John moaned again as Greg bit down hard on his clavicle, both hands working at his nipples now. “Want to come down your throat, over your mouth, your chin. Oh. Oh, yes… Mark you as mine inside and out.”

Greg growled quietly and started to tug at the waistband of John’s pants, his lover eagerly lifting himself up so they could be removed completely. John obligingly held his vest up and fiddled idly with his own nipples as Greg kissed his way down his torso, snarling and nibbling all along the way. After spending an inordinate amount of time licking and sucking at his lover’s navel, Greg sat back and took in the lovely spectacle, John’s spit-slicked puffy nipples, the burgeoning marks he had left behind on his brief downward rampage. The prick under Greg’s inspection jumped slightly as John’s stomach muscles contracted, the smaller man already starting to lose the battle for control over his own body.

Greg hummed again and bent down to nose along his inner thighs, once again rubbing his head against that eager cock, tickling at his bollocks with his fine silver hair. John let out a sound of pure anguish as Greg ran both hands up those strong golden thighs, his fingers coming together in an inverted vee over the root of his cock. Another low hum, and the older man pressed down gently, causing John to gasp and throw his head back. It was then that Greg leant in and mouthed lightly at the head of his prick, holding him down firmly as John’s hips bucked involuntarily.  

Greg stuck out his tongue and lapped delicately at the pre-come trickling out at a steady pace, obscene and guttural noises of delight rumbling through his chest and throat, making quite the show of his enjoyment. John grinned down at him in amusement, but there was also something dark and satisfied in his eyes, something blazing so hot that it made Greg’s stomach swoop with desire. John reached down to caress Greg’s cheek as he began to lavish long, wet messy licks all along and down his lover’s prick, up across the crown and over his bollocks.

John sighed and rolled his hips gently. “So extravagant with that lovely tongue of yours.” He sighed again as Greg looked up at him coquettishly from under his dark lashes, once more lapping at the slit like a kitten with a saucer of cream. “Such a good little cocksucker.” His fingers tightened in his lover's hair, and Greg let out a surprised yelp before it turned into a low purr, wrapping his lips around John’s girth and slowly sinking down. “Fuck yes. This - _ungh_ \- this is all mine now. Do you hear me, Gregory? He doesn’t get this from you, and he doesn’t get to give it to you either. This is ours alone. You understand?”

Greg let his nose bump into John’s pubic bone and he took a moment to breathe in steadily before glancing up and blinking slowly. He hollowed his cheeks as he came up at the same tortuously slow rate that he used to get down there, finally nodding as his lips popped up off the head with an obscene slurp. “I hear you, Captain.” He idly scratched at his chin before nosing around John’s bollocks and coming up again. “Maybe you should outline just what _is_ allowed, hm?”

John sighed as if terribly put-upon, only shifting slightly as Greg started to go down on him in earnest, sliding his mouth up and down along his shaft at a steady if still somewhat slow pace. “Uhn, God. Well, anything but that, obviously.” John tried to shrug as Greg turned a vaguely disappointed look up at him. “Oh, all right.” Greg hummed low in approval. “Nghk. Ah _fuck_. The basics, like kissing, making out, that’s all approved. As long as lips stay above the waist, of course. Handjobs and frotting, also approved. As long as there’s protection. Ah, oh God - _mm_ , yes. There, sweetheart, just - there.” John threw his head back for a moment, trying to marshal some blood back into his brain. “Ah. Fingering you - that’s allowed. I like to watch as you grind down on his hand, that stupidly big hand of his, knowing how deep his fingers are inside you, imagining how they might be wriggling around in there and driving you just a bit mad.”

Greg moaned low in his chest, his pace increasing slightly, one hand coming up to squeeze at John’s prick gently. “Oh, yessss…. _Yes_. And he can fuck you, of course. Bend you over and sink in to the hilt, fuck you hard and fast. Love to listen to you moan like the greedy little slut you are as he’s fucking all the breath out of that fine body of yours. Love to see the sweat roll down off his face and chest and drip down onto your back, onto your arse. Maybe next time I’ll let him unload all over your back, what do you think about that?” Greg’s hand began to squeeze harder, his head beginning to bob just a bit faster. “God, yes. Knew you’d like that. Filthy beast. Or maybe I’ll have him flip you over as he pulls out, have him take that annoying condom off, tell him to pull himself off as you do the same, watch both of you come all over your perfectly luscious belly. Make you a right mess and then when he’s gone I’ll get you down on your knees and I’ll jack off right on your face, oh good fucking God _yesss_ , then you’ll know, won’t you? Oh, my fine gent, you and I will both know that you’re mine and only mine and he can do just about anything he wants to you but he can’t do that, that’s mine and you’re mine and oh _oh_ OH God _GREG_ ….”

Greg hummed and released his grip around John’s cock as he felt it start to twitch, taking him deep into his throat as he started to pulse into him. John grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him off with a deep growl, thrusting into the loose ring of his mouth as he twitched and shivered and shuddered, the last splash of his release painting his lips and chin, just as he said it would. He let Greg relax into his hold, letting go of one side of his head so he could take his prick in one hand and tap it against his lover’s puffy lips, rubbing the underside of the head over his mouth lightly. John’s body quaked again, one last spike of pleasure cresting through his chest and up into his brain.

Greg sighed as if deeply contented, his chest only heaving slightly as he looked up at John’s face, nodding in satisfaction at a job well done. His own prick throbbed at him insistently, but he obediently kept both hands in clear view of John’s line of sight, idly caressing his legs as the colour slowly returned to his face. John smirked down at him gently, shrugging his dressing gown off his shoulders and stripping out of his vest. He dabbed at Greg’s mouth with the garment, tossing it aside as his lover grinned up at him proudly. He tugged at him perfunctorily.

“Up, Gregory. On your feet.”

Greg quirked an eyebrow and used John as support in his bid to stand, wobbling a bit after having been on his knees for so long. He groaned quietly and stretched, jumping slightly as his lover pressed in close, wrapping his arms around his waist and rubbing against him languidly.

“You made me feel so good, love. Oh, and just feel how hard you are for me. A treat for you, and now a treat for me, hm?” John reached between them and tugged at Greg’s pants, letting them fall to the floor. He wrapped his hand around one extremely stiff cock and began to stroke it with an exceedingly light touch. “Here is what’s going to happen. I'm going to go down on my knees for you, Gregory. And when I put my mouth around you, I want you to take what you need. I'm here to be used, you understand? Fuck my face as hard and fast as you need to get there."

Greg staggered slightly with a low groan. “J-John…”

“Yes, sweetheart. Last night, you let me use you for my own purposes. Now it’s your turn. Please. I want you to _use_ me.” He pulled his lover down for a swift kiss, growling faintly at the tang of his semen remaining on his skin. Then he went to his knees, nuzzling briefly into the hollow of one hipbone, digging his fingers into the muscle of a deliciously solid thigh. With a saucy little wink up at his lover, John shuffled a bit closer and reached up to angle Greg’s cock toward his mouth, closing his lips around the head and breathing steadily through his nose.

Greg groaned and let his hips move forward, let his body take what John was offering without thinking on it too deeply. The feeling of him closing down around his cock, his throat massaging him gently as he briefly choked on him, his quiet gags filtering in through Greg’s consciousness and speaking to a very primal force within him. Oh yes, having this lovely strong man on his knees for him, willingly allowing him to thrust deep without regard for his own comfort - oh. Something shifted in his head as he looked down at his lover, his slate-blue eyes glassy with desire, his cheeks glowing pink and his chin smeared with spittle and pre-come. He had felt a bit off since their session the night before, a little cautious and unsure, feeling an almost absurd need to be within sight of John every moment of the day.

That feeling was finally beginning to recede, and Greg breathed out an audible sigh of relief as he cupped John’s head in his hands and began to take what was offered him in earnest. Not that John would be inconvenienced for very long, as it had been a rather extensive blowjob and Greg had been achingly hard through nearly all of it. He had been close almost before John had even offered himself like this, and the sight of him, the sounds that he was making as Greg drove into him steadily - oh.

The feral creature in his head growled with pleasure as he fucked deep into John’s mouth, down his throat, and as he choked on him once again, his hips bucked as his spine twisted and Greg let loose with a wordless shout as his bollocks pulled up and began to release all that they had into the willing vessel kneeling at his feet. He didn’t let him pull away as he pulsed into him, withdrawing only slightly to let John take in a deep breath through his nose and swallow before pushing in deep again and again.

No, he made him take it all, and John gagged quietly as Greg shoved his cock in deep a final time, throwing his head back in bliss as the tight wet heat surrounding him quivered uncontrollably. He finally withdrew as the blood began to return to his head, almost staggering from the rush of endorphins and the renewal of his own equilibrium. John took in a shuddering breath, his chest heaving as he echoed the look of pride that Greg had turned on him immediately after his own successful attempt.

They grinned at each other, both of them feeling ridiculously sappy with their own filthy displays and more than a little embarrassed by it. Greg held out his hands and John took them, sighing as his lover pulled him to his feet and into his embrace. They kissed tenderly, swaying their bodies together unconsciously. Then John wobbled as Greg staggered, and they simply collapsed back onto the sofa together, Greg lying flat on his back with John tucked up in between his legs, his head pillowed on his chest.

Without a word, Greg reached up to pull the throw off the back of the sofa, tossing it over John’s bare backside and tucking it in around him. John sighed into his chest and wriggled slightly, and it was mere seconds before they were both out like a light.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets settled in for a night alone at Baker Street...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short-ish chapter, a mini-chap, if you will. Another to follow quickly thereafter...

John settled into his armchair with a little wriggle and a sigh, casting a critical eye over his set-up for the evening. He had the most recent of his medical journals stacked up next to a steaming cup of tea, a couple of biscuits waiting to be nibbled, and a toasty blanket at his back for later. Everything seemed to be in order, but he sighed again as his lips twisted. Well, except that he was back at Baker Street all alone and no longer in Greg’s bed, of course. John stared into the fireplace for a while, remembering the fitting and damn near perfect end to their weekend together.

After waking from a very fortifying nap and consuming the pasties that he had thought to purchase at the café earlier in the day, they had settled together on the sofa once again. Greg had chosen to plug one of his horrible sci-fi slasher discs into the player over his lover’s vague objections, a wicked and not altogether reassuring grin on his face. John shook his head now to think on it, the way he had turned his face into Greg’s chest every time another character had been dispatched in some cleverly gruesome manner. And each time his lover had chuckled quietly and clutched him closer, but of course that was why he had put the damn movie in to begin with, wasn’t it?

Sneaky little fucker. It was obviously a time-honoured and rather effective method to induce snuggling, however. And then the look in those damned gorgeous eyes of his when John had made vague noises about going home, wandering about and picking up socks and boxers and goodness only knows what other random detritus he had scattered about Greg’s flat over the course of their two days together. Greg had stood and taken his hand, drawing him into the bedroom and stripping them both from their dressing gowns. Then he had proceeded to slowly take him apart quite thoroughly, all without uttering one word.

John flushed with an odd combination of arousal and shame to think on it now, finding it all too easy to close his eyes and recall the way Greg had sunk balls-deep into him and started to fuck him at an almost unbearably slow pace. God, he could almost feel it even now... John had suddenly realised just how much of an idiot he had been, because of course Greg hadn’t been making love to Edward the night before.

No, this - this is what Gregory Lestrade looked like when he was truly making love to someone. His rhythm deep and steady and sure, his dark eyes fixed on his face, lips and hands paying homage to his skin. John had come without a hand on him, with nothing more than Greg’s thick cock filling him, sliding across his prostate in a slow and relentless drag. His lover had paused to wait out the numerous tremors and watch in awe as John’s prick had twitched and released all over his belly, and had obligingly pulled out as he had been pushed away. John had immediately rearranged himself up on his hands and knees and presented his already fucked-open arse to him, and the sound of Greg’s heady groan of relief was damn near _still_ bouncing in between his ears.

And he had taken what was on offer, oh yes he had, sliding back in smoothly and pressing a firm hand in between John’s shoulder blades, holding him down as he fucked him hard and fast, coming with a strangled cry, draping himself over John’s back as they had recovered their breath together. After withdrawing and removing the condom, Greg had simply wiped down with a handful of tissues and immediately pulled his lover close, wrapping one strong arm around his torso and nuzzling into his sweat-dampened hair.

“Stay with me one more night. Please.”

And he had. After all, Sherlock had said that he wouldn’t be back before Monday at the earliest anyhow, and John still had a fresh set of clothing available for his shift at the clinic the next day. So he had nodded wordlessly and snuggled deeper into that comforting heat and had woken with his belly all itchy from the remnants of his come, but so fucking what because waking up next to his lover with his eyes all dark and languid and his hair all spiky with sleep was one of the most glorious sights that John had ever seen.

He smiled to himself as he blinked his eyes open and reached for his tea, finally pulling one of the journals from the stack and flipping it open. He glanced over the bookshelves surrounding the fireplace and wondered idly if he’d ever be able to read anything purely for amusement ever again. Of course he wasn’t too deep into the first journal before he had passed out utterly, but his dreams were full of his lover, so he didn’t mind so much.

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock comes back from an unsatisfying trip to Latvia and makes an exciting discovery...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have a bit of Sherlock wandering about his Mind Palace. This may seem a bit rambly, but I have a headcanon that his meandering thought processes might be even more so when he's fully immersed. But then, maybe it's not as loopy as I fear.
> 
> Please do comment, keep me going!
> 
> Thank you, my lovelies!

That was how Sherlock found John when he returned in the earliest hours of Tuesday morning, quietly seething at the utter incompetence of everybody in general, but at Mycroft in particular. The crime had seemed so promising, honestly - a beheading - of all things! A clear eight at least. And yet…

And yet it had turned out to be nothing but a ruse, an elaborate one, of course, but a sham all the same. Sherlock had immediately called his brother upon discovering it, becoming all the more suspicious as Mycroft had quietly and calmly accepted all of his verbal abuse and claimed that he knew nothing about it. He had been alerted to the potential scandal through some shady diplomatic channels, and had put ‘his best man’ on it. That was all that Sherlock could wrangle out of him, and he once again cursed the bureaucratic brick wall that his brother had become.

There was something deeper at work here, something that involved his officious and interfering older brother. Something, that if he were to be honest with himself, that felt personal, somehow. Mycroft had a purpose in all of these extraneous trips that he was sending him on lately, and Sherlock was determined to find out what it was all about.

He was working himself up into a proper strop as he stomped up the stairs to 221B, but as soon as he cleared the sitting room door, his aggravation seemed to just leach out of him. He could see that John had fallen asleep in his armchair, perhaps while waiting for him to come home and regale him with the tale of his adventure without him. His head was lolling against the back of his seat, tilted at an awkward angle. Sherlock bit his lip as he set his luggage down, debating whether it would be kinder to wake him and send him upstairs to his bed, or simply to leave him be.

He strode over to evaluate the situation a bit further, and paused as he took in John’s rumpled appearance. He frowned as he realised that there were distinct signs that the weekend had not gone entirely to plan. There were faint worry lines around his eyes, his left hand was twitching in his sleep, and his right leg was also being held out somewhat stiffly in front of him. He’d had an episode, then. One of his night terrors, perhaps. But - no. No, that wasn’t it at all. He’d had an actual breakdown, and had done something untoward that had perhaps threatened the state of his relationship with his mysterious suitor.

Sherlock leant forward and inhaled deeply. Definitely not the scent of John’s typical shampoo, so he had apparently showered at his lover’s yesterday morning and gone to the clinic from there. Sherlock tilted his head and inhaled again. The scent was familiar, somehow… Hm. So whatever had happened, they had obviously worked through it. He was a little surprised to find that he was glad of it. As much as he would have liked to have kept John all to himself, Sherlock knew that there were things that his blogger needed that he was not well-equipped to offer. John’s lover seemed to understand their reliance on one another, and better yet, had not made any unreasonable demands about keeping John to himself.

Very considerate fellow. Considerate, and - caring, obviously. Sherlock sighed quietly. That was what John truly needed, someone who would care for him above themselves. And that, of course, was the one thing that he honestly could not offer. After all, he knew himself to be unabashedly selfish and extremely inconsiderate. John himself had berated him for those unpleasant qualities on numerous occasions. Not to mention the - physical affection that John craved, that his body actually seemed to require in order to maintain itself properly. How aggravating that someone so important to him should suffer those annoyances. If only he could train him to gain control over his transport… Sherlock quirked an eyebrow as his gaze shifted to the mirror above the fireplace. He supposed he could, if he absolutely had to, but no, that wouldn't be necessary. John had an outlet for those urges, and he would no doubt resent the attempt to control him, no matter how Sherlock would reassure him that it was all for his own good.

Who? Who could it possibly be? He knew that John had his own acquaintances outside of him, of course, but the life that they shared didn’t leave him with a lot of free time to go swanning about meeting potential liaisons. It only made sense that it would be somebody that they both knew, or perhaps had some business with in the past. Sherlock started to shake the thought out of his head, after all, John had warned him that if he went to any extraneous effort to learn of his suitor’s identity, he would be most put out indeed. Then he huffed impatiently. He wasn’t going to any unreasonable lengths here - no, he was merely using his mind. And there was no way that John would begrudge him _that_.

John shifted slightly in his seat with a quiet mumble, and Sherlock smiled to himself, taking that as an unconscious agreement. So. A man, for one thing - that was an interesting little factoid right there. He supposed that was why all of the other relationships that John had attempted to foster had failed. Well, beyond his own interference, of course. He had been trying with the wrong gender. Whatever this was now, perhaps it had started as nothing more than an easy sexual release? Sherlock supposed that it most likely would be less work to get a man into bed than a woman, if his own awkward attempts all those years ago could be any indication.

Somebody that they both knew, and were somewhat familiar with, an easy camaraderie existing between the two men, a definite attraction. A need for secrecy, apparently, both of them sticking quite close to that rule and succeeding with it admirably. Even in front of him, the man who could see everything with one glance. How had this been kept from him for so long? Sherlock felt his eyes going slightly wider as he realised it was because he didn’t _want_ to see it. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that he might lose John before he had ever really had him, and so he had deliberately ignored the signs. And now it was too late. John was in love, as unfortunate as that was, and it was far too late for Sherlock. He had lost him.

But no, he hadn’t. No, he was here, wasn’t he? Still here, in Baker Street, waiting for him to come home. Waiting to listen to him tell the tale, his slate-blue eyes wide with wonder and fascination, and after he would spin the story, his lips would quirk up with bemusement and astonishment, and he would mutter ‘amazing’, or ‘fantastic’, and Sherlock’s heart would nearly burst from his chest the way it always did. No, even though John’s affection had mostly been stolen by this mysterious suitor, a portion of it remained for him. He did still have him, after all.

Sherlock could not fool himself into thinking that the current arrangement would work indefinitely. He knew that John was in love, he could see it on his face and read it in the set of his shoulders. Soon enough, he would want to spend more time with his lover, perhaps even all of his time. Could they both make a go of it here? Sherlock glanced around the sitting room with a little frown. Not without knowing this person, of course, but - yes. Yes, it just might work. He shook his head again. Getting ahead of yourself, you daft fool. Sherlock knew that it was more than a bit not good to assume that the man would even want to move in with the both of them, but he simply wanted John to be happy, and to stay with him. They could make it work if necessary. But who could it be?

Almost unconsciously, he leant down again and put his nose perilously close to John’s scalp, inhaling deeply. That scent... It was something vaguely spicy and warm - oddly comforting. He knew it, somehow. Sherlock froze in a very awkward position as John shifted once more, letting out an indistinct grunt as he moved. The journal that he had been holding on his lap slid away and to the floor as his hips tilted upward. Without thinking, Sherlock ducked down to retrieve it and happened to glance over just as his eyes were at groin level.

_Oh_. Oh dear. John was, well, he was obviously excited by whatever was going on behind his eyes, perhaps dreaming of his lover. His erection had most likely been raging for quite a few minutes, as it was barely being contained by his loose-fitting pyjama bottoms, a growing patch of damp at the clearly-defined head. Sherlock clutched the medical journal to his chest as he slowly sank to his knees in front of the unconscious man, his body swaying toward him.

John shifted again, his legs falling open as his fingers clutched at the well-worn fabric covering his thighs, pulling the waistband down slightly. Sherlock almost growled with frustration, as it wasn’t enough to reveal the tantalising hardness barely concealed underneath. His hands trembled as he set aside the journal, shuffling forward ever-so-slowly as John took in a mumbled breath, his head rolling on his shoulders as his hips tilted again. Sherlock’s own member twitched perfunctorily, but he was far too adept at ignoring its’ paltry little demands, and it went mostly unnoticed. Mostly. He crouched down as low as he dared, breathing as shallowly as he could before nosing directly over that beguiling wet patch, feeling the heat radiating off of John’s centre and inhaling deeply.

He sat back abruptly as he held his breath, throwing his head back and quickly cataloguing the aroma, the heady earthiness and sweet tang of the sea. The smell of John, at his most basic, human male level - his musk. God, but he wanted to nuzzle into his crotch, really just stick his nose in there and wiggle around and rub his face in it. He wanted to smell and feel and taste and breathe him all in, until the essence of the smaller man was held securely within his head and lungs. How utterly appalling. Sherlock almost giggled at the absurdity of it, but oh, as wrong and as ridiculous as his current situation was, he was damn near giddy with the opportunity to observe this side of his flatmate, lost in his primal state of lust. The smaller man writhed again, his mouth dropping open slightly and a quiet whine pushing its way from his throat.

“More. Oh yes, _harder_. Fuck me harder…”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide as he clapped a hand to his mouth, holding back on an excited squeal. Definitely dreaming of his lover, then, and oh what a pleasant surprise to find that the tough little ex-soldier actually _liked_ getting it up the arse… Sherlock didn’t like to think of himself as all that naïve, but he did know that there were things that he had yet to learn (or had learned many years ago and consequently deleted), and the intricacies of sex was definitely one of them. Weren’t there specific roles that were adopted in the type of relationship that John was now involved in? Why wouldn’t he be the one in control? Of course, the identity of his unknown partner might be a factor in that decision, maybe he was bigger and stronger and more butch than John was, maybe he had no choice but to be the bottom. Sherlock frowned slightly and shook his head. No, John wouldn’t be involved with anyone who would even try to make him do anything he truly didn’t want to. Besides, with the noises he was making now and the way he was grinding his bum into his chair - no, he obviously liked whatever was going on in his head.

“ _Ah!_ Greg…”

Sherlock sat back on his heels and blinked rapidly. _Greg!_ He had a name, at long last. All right. So. What to do with it then? He scanned his memory quickly, frowning as there were no immediate hits on the name. Sherlock tilted his head, quickly becoming distracted by the sheer volume of the damp patch at the head of John’s clothed prick. Quite a leaker, wasn’t he? He licked his lips and deliberately switched his gaze to John’s face, taking in the faint tinge of pink to his cheeks and the way his chest was heaving slightly as his tawny eyelashes fluttered becomingly. Yeah, no, that wasn’t helping either. Taking in a breath of clear air, Sherlock closed his eyes and templed his fingers under his nose, striving to ignore John’s soft whines and pants for breath, the heat rolling off of him from mere inches away.

Greg. He swiftly descended the stairs of his Mind Palace, going to the Library. A bit trite, perhaps, but certainly handy for General Knowledge. He kept his Name Index here as well. Special people warranted individual rooms, of course, but he didn’t wander into that wing all that often. _‘G’_. Ah, here it was. He pulled down the volume and started to flip through it, randomly stopping here and there. Gavin, no. Geoff, no. Graham. Closer, but no. Ah, _Greg_. Here they were... Greg Carew, art forger. No, he was well before John’s time, and the man had been nearly seventy when they had finally pulled him in. Gregory Jones, con-artist - Welsh. Definitely not. Greg Kettler, wife-killer. Ahh - no. He was safely tucked away for life, anyhow.

Gregory Lestrade. Sherlock felt his outer shell twitch suddenly, and he frowned to himself as he mentally tapped on the grainy photo next to the entry. No. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? It couldn’t be that obvious, that easy. Besides, Lestrade was dull, just like the rest of the Scotland Yard imbeciles. Boring and unassuming, not at all what John would crave in a companion. No excitement or danger at all... Sherlock huffed to himself, a little surprised to note the prominent asterisk next to the man’s name. That indicated that he had a room of his own in the next wing.

There was nothing for it, he supposed. Lestrade was definitely the most promising candidate, and he needed to know more. He carefully tucked away the slim volume in his hands before exiting the Library and taking a left, heading down a short hallway and then taking a sharp right. He straightened his shoulders and tugged his jacket down before striding down the corridor, taking note of the nameplates on each of the doors. Mummy’s was first, of course, the door painted a pale and somewhat distant pink. Siger’s was opposite hers, the hue an ominous black and sporting a rather elaborate lock. Then Mycroft’s, a stately if somewhat erotic royal blue. Victor Trevor, an odd electric green. Vivian Hudson, a comforting lilac. Ah. Gregory Lestrade, a vibrant if warm burgundy. He glanced at the door at the end of the hall, John Watson, a shimmering but understated gold, before taking the handle of Lestrade’s door and opening it slowly.

He braced himself for the swift welter of emotions that would usually come flooding out, blinking rapidly when it did not come. No, all he was sensing was an almost overwhelming feeling of peace, of comfort. Of - home. Sherlock tilted his head and blinked rapidly, letting himself take in the scene before him. Ah. It was one of the back rooms of that dingy little club that he would frequent when he was attempting (and usually failing) to detox on his own, choosing outward pain over the sensation of his guts trying to claw their way out of his body through his eyeballs. He stepped forward and looked down at the well-worn black leather couch, at the pitiful creature stretched out on it, all lanky bones and greasy hair and hideous bruises.

Sherlock stepped aside as a handsome silver-haired man came into the room and went to his knees at the wretched beast’s side, his breath catching as his deep brown eyes filled with tears. Sherlock gasped aloud as the man reached out to touch the ghost of himself without being bade, laying rough but warm hands over his mottled flesh. He could feel the shell of his transport, still kneeling on the floor of the sitting room in 221B, could feel it as his back arched and his skin prickled into gooseflesh at nothing more than the memory of Lestrade’s hands on him. _Oh_. How could he have locked this away?

Because it hurt, that was why. Because he could see the concern in this man's face, the caring in his heart, and know that it would never be his. It might have been, once upon a time. The scene in front of him shifted into a generic office, Lestrade behind his desk standing to greet his brother with an outstretched hand. They had made arrangements for him, of course, had brokered a deal as though he were nothing more than a piece of property. Sherlock had almost likened it to being treated like a prostitute, except that he had been rather eager to get started on his new consulting work. The only stipulation that Lestrade had insisted upon was that he had to be clean, and Mycroft had annoyingly held him to it. Although, in truth, his last episode had frightened him nearly as much as it had these two men, and he had done what he could to stick with the program.

When he had stepped out from behind his brother, Lestrade’s eyes had flashed with an annoying amount of pride, but there had been something deeper there. A kind of love, perhaps, and definitely more than a bit of desire. Sherlock knew himself to be attractive in an exotic if rather odd fashion, and during his time at that godforsaken facility, he had put on more than two stone, filling out the gauntness of his ribs and rounding out the sharpness of his cheeks. He was clean and well-groomed and wearing the suit that his brother had his tailor make for him, and he knew without a doubt that he looked good. Lestrade had smiled at him in relief and approval and there had been a twinkle in his eye that had made Sherlock’s heart jump in his chest, but he had locked it down and levelled a glare on the silver-haired man that had subdued him instantly, and that was that. Anything that might have been was squashed quite effectively, and once back in his temporary room at Mycroft’s townhouse, Sherlock had built this dubious prison in his mind and had tossed all the memories of Lestrade into it before closing the door quite firmly. He had even scrubbed his given name, apparently. Given names weren’t needed for purely professional relationships.

Sherlock looked around a bit more, taking note of the seemingly random photos on the walls, of various settings that flitted through his memory, different bedsits and indistinct tiny flats, obviously different and yet somehow all the same. Because he had felt safe in all of them, for no reason other than Lestrade had been there with him. He found himself thinking that perhaps Lestrade _was_ the Greg that John had been mumbling about, as he certainly could provide the caring aspect that he would need. He would be steady and calm, could administer the support and structure that John’s fractured mind would no doubt require. Sherlock nodded faintly as he started to accept the idea, but no. No, there was still something missing.

The physical aspect, of course. Sherlock had never seen that side of Lestrade, even if it had been hinted at often enough. That man that he had started seeing shortly after they had first met… E-something… Edmund? Oh, whatever. However naïve he may be, he knew that man, with his broad shoulders and ridiculously large hands was definitely not the sort to allow anyone to take him carnally. He had witnessed him leading enough men around the dance floor to know that much for certain. Not that Lestrade couldn’t have picked up additional skills from his other lovers, he supposed.

After getting himself off the drugs with Mycroft's assistance, he hadn’t needed Lestrade in the same way, and hadn’t dropped in on him as often as he had before. Sherlock knew that was ultimately a good thing, but now he realised that it left him with annoying gaps in his knowledge. Gaps that would have helped him to solve the little mystery that he had unexpectedly been presented with.

Sherlock still wasn’t entirely convinced that Lestrade had the qualities that John would be seeking. Although… He gasped again as those dark eyes suddenly filled his mind’s eye, so full of concern and caring and worry. He had always been so worried for him in the past, had always been willing to take him in and clean him up and feed him and even though Sherlock had grumbled about it, Lestrade had always known just when to touch him when he had needed it most. And not once had he ever demanded or even expected anything in return.

He was a good man. Exactly the kind of man that John deserved. And if he allowed himself to think on it, to think about how they interacted during crime scenes, the easy manner in which they joked together, the tiny glances that they would share when they thought he wasn’t looking… Of _course_. God, there was nothing quite like being deliberately obtuse, was there? They had even admitted it, more or less - their blasted pub nights! John always came back with a certain glow to him on Tuesday nights, and Sherlock had assumed that it was nothing more than the lager sloshing around in his belly. And then all of those Fridays that he had to stay over on Lestrade’s ‘couch’ because he was too pissed to get home, or so he had said. Well, Jesus fucking _Christ_ , they had more or less spelled it out for him, hadn’t they?

You are a double-damned fool, Sherlock Holmes, and you are _jealous_. He crossed his arms over his chest as a new scene unfolded before him, the last time he had seen them together, they way both of their faces had been flushed and the stupid grins that they had shared. Oh God, it _was_ Lestrade…

_Oh God._ Sherlock shivered gently as he realised that his memory-images of the two men were suddenly completely nude. Oh no, no no… No, this was not going to turn into some godforsaken sexual romp in his head. He had control over his body, over his urges. Control - control, he had it. Right? He moaned quietly as Lestrade reached up to run his fingers through John’s tawny hair, to cup his chin and pull him up for a deep, probing kiss.

Sherlock felt his shell responding as the images in front of him started caressing each other, both of their arousals clearly evident. John’s member was modelled on what he had seen this very night, whereas Lestrade’s prick was cobbled together from vague memories and recollections of years past, when Sherlock had shared a bed with him because there had been no other option. Lestrade had always apologised profusely upon waking, but the truth was that Sherlock had never minded. Not really. Especially now that he had rather the impressive model to work with in his mind.

John seemed to appreciate it as well, as he was now stroking it and cooing with delight, kissing his way over a surprisingly well-defined chest, liberally peppered with an enticing amount of hair. Sherlock had seen plenty of that during the times that he had crashed on Lestrade’s sofa and/or bed, and he couldn’t imagine it having changed all that much. Perhaps a bit more silver in it than black, these days. Just like that gorgeous head of hair…

Oh God, no. Control, control - _control_ , dammit! Sherlock threw his head back as he realised that it was a lost cause, as Fantasy-Greg’s dark eyes caught his over Fantasy-John’s head, as he noted the wicked little smirks being thrown in his direction even as both men sank down onto a luxurious bed that had appeared out of nowhere. They rolled and giggled together as Sherlock unconsciously wandered a bit closer, palming himself over his tented trousers, both here in his Mind Palace and outside in 221B.

**Author's Note:**

> Brit-picked by the lovely Caz, aka NumberThirteen - thank you, dearie! :)
> 
> I also wanted to add that I do have a tumblr. I don't think I'll be posting any teasers or anything like that, but I will be tossing out notifications, since it seems that AO3 hasn't been informing a few of my loyal readers. You can find me at 'bitemebat.tumblr.com' if you'd like.


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